


The Wizguard

by Winter_and_Summer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:43:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1720310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_and_Summer/pseuds/Winter_and_Summer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy is getting mad. Hermione is always bloody right. Ron is desperate. Harry is jobless. And Draco...is well, being Draco. What will happ/en if an insane stalker stirs up their lives?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wizguard

**Author's Note:**

> This submission is part of HD Smoochfest on Livejournal. The theme this year is Media Remix, which invited participants to "remix" the story from a Book, Movie, Television Show. The author/artist will be revealed at the end of the fest. 
> 
> This was created for Prompt Number: M84  
> Original Work Name: The Bodyguard
> 
> Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Notes: A big teddy bear hug to my dearest Aleisha for the badass beta and help with everything, and for being a very reliably and trusted friend!! You’re the lovely guru of this fanfic, darling. Big thanks to my mother as well for being so supportive amidst my “computer catastrophe”. And most of all, hugs and kisses to the wonderful mods whose patience are out of this world! I wish all teacher are like you when it comes to deadlines. And let us not forget to acknowledge the fabulous prompter for such an amazing prompt. <3

"Fuck it all!" Draco muttered darkly as he stomped his way inside his office. "Damn freaking editors. Why are they so strict when it come to deadlines?!"

Inside his office, a short-haired girl behind the corner desk is checking her nails and looked up when she heard Draco's litany. Raising her eyebrows, Pansy looked Draco over and scowled. She looks at him as if he had grown a pair of bunny ears.

"You're talking to yourself again. And you look like shit."

Draco parried her scowl with his own. "I feel like shit."

Who wouldn't be, if first thing in the morning you got a call from your editor, bollocking you about being late and forcing you to finish the story fast. It's still 9:30 in the morning and his day is already  _thoroughly_  ruined.

 

"Perks of being famous, Draco," Pansy quipped as she went back to writing something on a piece of parchment, not bothering to look at her boss.

Draco let out an exaggerated snort, "Do they know that a writer must be given ample time and  _peace_  to write? And if I'm really a VIP for them, then why are they wringing me about deadlines, instead of trying to consider me and leaving me to work in peace?" Leaning on the wall with such elegance only a Malfoy could pull off, the blond brushed a stray hair away from his eyes and back in its place. "A writer with over a billion fans shouldn't be treated like this!" he said hotly.

 

 ‘’Oh I don't know Draco. Maybe because people are expecting your book to be released 3 months from now, and youhaven't written half of it?"

"Oh sod off, Pans. Remind me why I asked you to be my secretary? Because right now I want to kill you.’’ Draco seethed.

"Because I'm brilliant and I'm the only one who can send those editors to the land of shits if ever they try to visit you personally," she said while filing some parchments and marking them with either a heart or an X. "And also, stop complaining your arse out because you're lucky enough to earn sacks of gold with just imprisoning yourself inside your house and playing with a quill and parchment. Other people there need to grind themselves with arranging boring appointments and filing nonsense parchments just to earn some galleons."

"Darling, are you saying that you would rather play with a quill and parchment than have your job?" Draco inquired with a perfectly arched eyebrow.

Pansy rolled her eyes with such exaggeration that Draco wondered if they would actually roll out of her eye sockets. "No, you daft bint. I just can't get over with the fact that you can work inside the comforts of your home while I am trapped in this boring office inside your _manor_ and do nothing all day but plan on how to murder the next editor that would dare visit here."

"Which is exactly why I think that your salary is too much for your job. Maybe I should lower your sala-"

"Don't you dare Draco Malfoy." Pansy glared at him. Dangerously so.

Draco laughed and threw his hands up in surrender. "I was just joking." Then he tried to offer a smile for peace offering.

"Too bad for you, I'm immune to your charms," Pansy said, but she smiled anyway.

Draco raised his eyebrow in mock questioning and thought how this woman was once stuck to his arm, batting her eyelashes—so much it was almost a twitch—in his direction, but had become his trusted secretary _and bodyguard_. ‘’I’m immune to your charms’’ He scoffed.  Many things changed since then.

Especially after the war.

After the war, it was tough for Draco. While the great Potter received praise and showered with many opportunities, Draco was criticised and thrown tomatoes at. Literally. No one would accept him in any jobs that he applied.

He was left by no choice but to work inside a dusty and weird shop in Knockturn Alley as a clerk. The place was supposed to be a cauldron shop but for a start, there were dead dangling cats hanging from the ceilings. Everywhere. And there were only a  _few_  cauldrons, if that. The shop owner is just as weird, worse even. His eyes keep on darting everywhere and he forbids Draco to touch the cauldrons or the cats, which is something Draco would not do even if he were under the Imperious.

 

The trials were shit too. The Malfoy family  were supposed to be judged guilty and sent to Azkaban if not for one Harry Potter who went to their last trial and said bravely that although Draco was a Death Eater, he was probably the most useless one he've seen. Draco didn't know what to think of that. The git also said that his Mother was only forced to do those things because she was threatened.

He said nothing about Lucius and of course, Draco's Father did not get the chance to be saved from Azkaban. But to everyone's surprise, especially to the surprise of Draco himself, Harry had continued "And although Lucius was one of the trusted followers of Voldemort and even offered his Manor to him, he did not particularly kill anyone. And also," This part was unforgettable for Draco. Potter looked straight, with an odd emotion in his eyes that Draco couldn’t understand before it was gone, into Lucius' eyes. Time stretched so slowly and it seemed like long minutes before Harry broke the invisible cord between them and continued. Draco didn't know if he only imagined it but he thought he saw Potter’s eyes flicker towards him for a second before saying, "He helped secretly in capturing Death Eaters and defeating Voldemort."

Whatever that help was, no one knew. Even his father would not tell them. And that was the last time Draco saw Potter.

The Malfoy wealth was confiscated by the Ministry except for their Manor and some of their galleons. Draco used that to send his parents to France and let them stay there until it was safe.  _If_  it would ever be safe for them.

 

Now back to the job, it was still a hassle. And since Draco had nothing to do but stare at the mosquitoes buzzing around the dead animals and casting charms to lessen the wretched smell of the place, he started sending anonymous articles to the _Daily Prophet_ and to some magazines like _The Flying Snitch_. He also started writing random novels. Who knew his hobby would bring him to where he is now.

His anonymous articles in the Daily Prophet became famous. He later on used the pseudonym _Eye of the Dragon_. The first time Pansy heard this she teased him. She said it was corny and that it reminded her of a weird muggle song entitled 'Eye of the Tiger'.

Soon, his entries in the Prophet became widely known, sought, and waited for. Draco would have been content with just merely being an anonymous writer, going to the Public Owlery at the far-end of Diagon Alley and smiling at the old man who feeds the owls—who, in Draco's surprise, doesn't seem to care if he is the infamous son of Lucius Malfoy—and go back to his "workplace" or the Manor. But several months after the unexpected rise of E. Dragon to the world of news and literature, _The Prophet_ tried to seek him out. They managed to track which Owlery Draco uses, but unfortunately for them and  _fortunately_  for Draco, the old man in the owlery refused to name him. Left with no choice but still as eager, they left a letter for Draco. A proposal, for that matter.

 

It turned out that they were just scared that Draco's anonymous entries would stop, ‘’ we’ll give you a permanent job’’, they had said. ‘’We'll provide you with your own office and added accessories’’, they said. It was tempting, really. But the idea of working with that blasted Skeeter...he'd rather vomit a bunch of slugs.

He thought the world was finally catching him up with all the crimes he had done. There he was, trying to support his _parents_ , working in a _fucking_ cauldron shop with _dead_ cats and an _insane_ employer, and left with only one option to at least go forward from instant muggle noodles to a proper and  _edible_  dinner. Or lunch. Or breakfast.

 

Life was that hard to Draco. And so, he revealed himself. "You do realise that people do not care anymore. They have been drawn close to you with your sharp opinions and mind-opening commentaries. It's not about who is or was the bad guy, it's about getting on the good side of the majority," a professional-looking _Prophet_ Admin told him that fateful day when he braved Diagon Alley and went to their building. He was, admittedly making a point and maybe the only one in the damned building who wasn’t full of lies and false speculations. When people knew who E. Dragon was, the public were going to know everything. He wasn’t some false publisher, like Skeeter.

Declining an offer for an office in their vicinity (no way Draco would agree to that, the further from Skeeter the better), everything went down to what is in front of him now: his personal office in the Manor —now renovated and slightly altered— and his  _personal_ assistant-slash-best friend-slash-editor assassin, Pansy Parkinson.

 

It's been 5 years.

But it still feels like a nightmare from yesterday's sleep for Draco.

"…and better save it when dooms day comes. Which is, the inevitable visit of Mrs. McPhee," Pansy was saying.

Draco immediately snapped back his attention to Pansy. Reminiscing the past and getting drowned in your own musings is not good if you are talking to the one and only Pansy Parkinson.

"Better save whatever there is, indeed. That woman is impossible." Draco tried to go with the conversation, hoping to Merlin that his friend did not notice his lapse.

"Are you having those _'I'm thinking about my story and now I don't care about the world'_ moments again?" Pansy raised her eyebrow, intent in making Draco guilty. "I'm talking about your pureblood charms, sweetheart. Better save it for that monster."

Draco shuddered. He'd rather flirt to Rita Skeeter than to that boogie man of a proof reader. "Well, what can I do? That proof reader is certainly into me."

Pansy rolled her eyes and then, changing the atmosphere and her front abruptly, set her features in a business-like manner. "As much as I love to chat with you, Mr. Malfoy, I'd like to follow up some things and schedules."

Now it's Draco's turn to roll his eyes.

Grabbing up her clipboard and parchments, she continued, "Your assignment regarding the new Head of Magical Law Enforcement for the Wizard's Quest is due next Saturday. Let me also remind you that you'll have a meeting with PAN Wizarding Books Publications and their editors this Wednesday, which is six days from now. And another meeting with Ms. Storrs for the cover art of your book. . And, listen to this," Pansy's eyes glistened and her 'professional' front faded for awhile, " _Witch Weekly_ is asking you to, and I quote " _endow us the privilege to feature your opinion about Harry Potter's resignation as an Auror."_

“Resignation? Really?" Draco agreed that it is indeed shocking. But really, that prat is full of surprises, so what more can he expect right? "Well, tell them that I am inclined to put down their request."

"Why not?"

"Just because." He doesn't want anything to do with Potter anymore. It always ends up in a mess and madness. Not this time.

"Doesn't mean that you’re bloody good at _'Everything Journalism'_ , you can already throw requests like that," she mumbled as she went back to what she was doing before Draco entered, marking X's and hearts to various unknown files.

Well, what can he do? He really is good at _'Everything Journalism'_. He does _Newspaper Journalism_ , _Magazine Journalism_ , _Feature Writing_ and he even writes novels. Really ‘good’, that's what he is.

"Well, what can I do?" he repeats, loudly this time. "I'm just that talented. In fact, so talented that I'm beginning to attract shit-faced stalkers." It was supposed to be a joke, really. But Pansy's face went sour and serious.

He has been receiving Death threats from an anonymous stalker. At first, it was pretty lame, scaring Draco that he knows where he is and that he can see him wherever he goes. It was almost like he was in love with Draco. It was almost flattering actually. Then it became more serious. The disturbing letters and owls turned into death threats. Haunting not just Draco, but also his parents and others who knew about it.

It was unnerving, at the very least.

"Pansy?" Draco said to a now looking pale Pansy.

"I-…Well, I planned to just ignore it like you said, you see. But…" Pansy went white and the usual mischief was lost in her eyes.

It's another threat, Draco knows.

Pansy silently rummaged through her drawer and pulled something with trembling hands. She handed it to Draco, lips pursed tightly.

Exhaling harshly, he unrolled the parchment. Just like the others, this one is tied with a sick shade of brown ribbon and sealed with an unsurprising and familiar letter 'D'. Addressing him. Fucking 'D' for Draco.

_Isn't that beautiful? A wonderful scenery of sunset, red-orange rays stretch out luxuriously, touching and reaching the peaceful greeneries, shading it with soft yellow hues. He would've liked it. Too bad, he will not be able to see any more of those. Just like you. Better count the remaining sunsets you’ll have the chance to see, MALFOY._

 

He doesn't know who the 'he' is in the letter, he doesn't have any bloody idea who the insane stalker-slash-killer-slash-whatever, and he doesn't give a fuck about sodding sunsets. All Draco knows is that if he let it get into his nerves, he'll lose it.

"Now sunsets? This is even worse than the _'sadly, you won’t be able to feel the coolness of December snow'_ shit. What's next _, 'unfortunately, you'll never hear cracks of crispy autumn leaves'_? He must be the worst melodramatic stalker there is." Draco remarked smugly with a laugh that sounded hollow to his ears. He needed to be fine. Fuck all of it. This was the first time that the threat is given through Pansy. His parents already had their share of the experience, even his personal editor. But Pansy…this might be a little hard for her.

Her pale form slowly shifts into a scowl of disgust. "I couldn't agree more with that." She sighed and seated on her place behind the desk. "I told you, stop being a stubborn git and just do it."

"Do what?" Draco closed his eyes, already knowing where this is going.

"Don't pretend ignorance, you prat. You know very well what I'm talking about. Go get a fucking bodyguard will you?"

"I told you I don't want to, Pans. And anyway, I've got Greg. I'd rather have him than some dull-headed Auror following me around."

"It's not like Greg doesn't belong to 'dull-headed' category."

"That's beside the point."

Pansy scowled and was about to open her mouth to argue even more, but Draco cut her impending words with "We already talked about this. You know I don't trust Aurors or some bodyguard agent, the two are the same. You very well know that in Wizarding World, in order to get a bodyguard and personal protection, one must consult the Auror Department Assistance Agency. What are the odds that the Auror that they will assign to me to become my bodyguard turns out to be my bloody stalker? Also, many of them hate me because I exposed the underground scandals of the corrupt ones in the Auror Dept. They'd feed me to a lion, of that I'm sure." Draco paused and wrinkled his nose, remembering that story that he published. "And from the looks of it, judging my reliable luck that thought is somewhere more than 50% of happening."

Pansy snorted. "What's wrong with your luck? You became a fucking famous journalist, magazines wait in line just to feature your whatever-you-call-that, you write heart-stopping cheesy novels that the Wizarding World can't wait to get their hands on and you're a rich blond arse. Poor luck, been abused and blamed by its horrible owner."

"My novels are not cheesy, maybe heart-stopping, but I can assure you that none of the reviews thought it was full of cheese. It's _thrilling_ and _exciting_ Pansy, those are the appropriate words to use."

Another snort. "Suit yourself. Let me just remind you that Greg, isn't a professional."

"I am very aware of that, sweetheart. Thank you very much." He smiled and walked across the room to enter his office, in a mission to get his unfinished manuscript and hoping for the best.

 _I should really just ignore this whole rubbish,_  Draco thought while opening his drawer. This is just one of those crazy moments in his life after all. It could be just a joke or something. Draco sighed. It's a fucking mess, but at least one that he can manage. Hopefully.

 

When his hands reached a sheaf of parchment, he immediately pulled it out, closed the drawer, informed Pansy of his destination, then left.

He should not care about this. This is just a work of some attention-seeking creature. Caring will do no good.

_Caring will do no good..._

•••••••|•••••••

It turned out he's wrong.

He's fucking  _wrong_.

 

After the patience-snapping, full-of-fake-smile and no-ending-nagging meeting with Mrs. McPhee, Draco was tired.

The loveless woman was impossible. It was a nice move to meet her inside a muggle cafe than make her come to the Manor to fetch the barely-finished manuscript. The monster did nothing but mumble complaints about Draco's incapacity in punctuality.

 

If the two of them are left alone inside the Drawing Room of the Manor, she would've shouted her lungs out at him. So, no thank you.

And now, he still needed to personally bring his article for the special edition of Daily Prophet straight to their building. It needs to be delivered personally because Draco wanted to discuss the fragility and criticality of the story before it will be published. Once again, he was able to unfold another secret of the Ministry. The last thing Draco wanted was for the _Prophet_ to fuck it all up.

He's arranged meeting with the Editor-in-Chief of the _prophet_ is still around half an hour. And he's hungry. He was not able to eat properly because of that sodding old lady. Draco Apparated to Diagon Alley with a pop and went to a small cafe located near the last turn going to Knockturn Alley.

When Draco went inside Cauldrons and Pans, he was immediately washed with memories of his old job. He used to eat lunch here everyday before he became a famous writer. He quickly ordered coffee and Mince Pie and chose a table beside the glass windows.

He used to buy the cheapest food here. And even though armed with glamour’s and charms so that people wouldn’t recognize him, he still couldn’t eat properly. Now, he's more than happy to order a decent meal and eat in peace as himself. Many things did change ever--

Something suddenly caught his eye. Draco turned his head so fast that it made a painful cracking sound. Groaning, he eyed a copy of Daily Prophet that was left by whoever used the table not far from Draco's right. He couldn't see the small letters properly but the headline and the photo were as clear as crystal.

Picture-Potter runs his hand through his hair in exasperation and is being ushered by Picture-Weasley as reporters flock roughly around them while they try to exit the Atrium in the Ministry; that and a glaring  **Golden Boy  Had Enough Of Being The Hero?**  was displayed for the eyes of Draco.

So it's true… the twat did  _really_  quit the Auror Department. Intrigued, Draco looked around to check if someone was watching, proving the coast is clear, he snatched the paper quickly and went back to his table as if nothing happened.

 

It's not really a crime to just snatch some stray Daily Prophet in a decent cafe, isn't it? After all, the owner with the brain of a chicken left it irresponsibly. And one of the ultimate law in the universe is: Finders Keepers! Or maybe… the owner really did left it here in purpose because he can't take any more of the crap in this paper. Well, Draco can't blame him, or her, because even he himself doesn't read the sodding paper. Yeah, maybe he works for them and his famous section is posed in their paper, but it didn't mean he wanted it. To think of it, the owner might had actually bought it just to read Draco's section and article, and after reading the only sane part of the Daily Prophet, decided that it would be fine to just leave it anywhere and be snatched by some outdated writer lurking nearby. Oh bless that person.

After some more weird musings, he focused his attention to the front page.  _It is a shock to the Wizarding… blah blah … Could it be possible that the defeater of the Dark Lord had  grown tired of saving us?_ , Draco rolled his eyes at that,  _…indeed many questions were raised…yada yada … when asked, the Wonder Boy said nothing but "I think I want to try something different, try more things."…so it really is a mystery…_

Draco sighed. He actually empathized with the man. He too, was asked numerous nonsense questions when he emerged from hiding and revealed his true identity. These reporters are fucked up. But then again, everyone is.

Draco's eyes once again scanned the page and landed on the black and white picture. Harry sodding Potter. It's been…7 years since the war. Both of them are 25 now. Years were now evident in this git. And, it may take more than death threats for Draco to admit this out loud, Potter had grown into quite a handsome and fit young man. He looked utterly stressed and tired in the picture, what with that fringe sticking to his forehead and circles under his eyes. But one can still see that... fuck, he's hot. Gone is the scrawny and bony boy, Potter has now become a well-muscled and grown up man. Mmmm... And those green eyes.

Draco didn't know how long he's been staring until a loud crack and shattering noise snapped his attention to the real world. He looked at the source of the ear-splitting sound and saw that a clumsy waitress had lost her balance and dropped the tea cup she'd been carrying. Realizing that he had been shamefully staring at his arch nemesis' picture and thinking how hot he is, he scowled at the paper and at himself. Just what the fuck was he doing? Moreover, what the fuck was he thinking? Resisting the urge to slap his face hard, he folded the Prophet and slid it to the far-corner part of the table. He'll just follow the example of the owner of the paper and leave it here for someone else to snatch.

He rubbed his face and cast a Tempus to check the time, 4:15, and all right…-wait.  _4:15??_  Fuck, he's late. So how did he end up 15 minutes late to his appointment just because of that bloody Potter and his fit…err…picture-form or whatever? He didn't want to know the answer.

 

Shoving the remaining slice of Mince Pie and gulping his now-cold espresso, he dashed out and Apparated in front of the Prophet building. He was disturbingly reminded of Mrs. McPhee's claim that he's incapable of punctuality. He walked with long strides and fast pace.

However, when he finally stepped inside, not the usual state of buzzing reporters, background clicks and tacks of printing machines, cameras snapping and quills hissing on parchments welcomed him. Instead, the reporters and other workers were bunched up in small groups and were whispering and discussing with small voices. There were Aurors asking questions all around and Unspeakables walking about. And the usual clicks and tacks were now only a faint sound hanging in the air.

What had happened?

Licking his lower lip, Draco approached the small gathered group near the entrance. At least, he knew these people: Dennis Creevey who had been clutching his camera is a photographer for the Prophet. It seemed that he adopted the hobby of his brother after the war. Dexter Morris, the feature writer, was leaning on the railing and eyeing everyone with suspicion. Terry Boot and Jane Allison, both Food and Restaurant section journalists, were standing very close to each other and murmuring.

"What happened?" Draco blurted out as soon as he reached them.

Dexter (yes, he's in first name basis with him because, Merlin forbid, they're pretty close) turned his head to Draco in acknowledgement. "There was a sudden explosion on the second floor."

Brows knitted and scandalized, Draco had to ask, "Second floor? The whole second floor?"

"No," Creevey supplied, "a bomb exploded inside the office of Mr. Harris. It was around four, I think. Just some minutes ago," he finished with a shudder.

"Office of…" Draco inhaled sharply. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. George Harris is the Editor-in-Chief of the Prophet. He was supposed to meet the man  _in_  his office. At four pm. If he was not late, if he had arrived on time…

 

"What happened to him? To Harris, I mean."

 

"We don't really know exactly, but he's critical. He was sent to St. Mungo's unconscious, and according to what I herd, his left arm is in pieces. I don't even want to imagine," Allison informed Draco with a pale face.

"Well, the man's lucky actually," Boot put in. "The bomb was placed near his desk. Good thing he was filing something across the room, or else he would be as good as a vegetable now."

The bomb was near the desk. The desk where he would be sitting near if he's meeting with Harris was...

If he had been there...

Draco bit his lip hard.

"They are still investigating who placed it there," Dexter added as they all watched the Weasel interview a wide-eyed witch.

"Hey, did you hear the update?" Elena, the noisy bugger, announced out of nowhere.

"Yeah. I heard there's an escaped creature around that jumps out of nowhere and asks if they already heard the update. Very scary," Draco deadpanned.

Elena rolled his eyes, which remind Draco very much of Pansy. "Nice to see you too, Draco."

"So what is it?" Creevey enquired while they all watched Dexter flung his arms around his noisy of a bugger girlfriend.

"Well, thanks to my wonderful talent of gathering information," there was a snort, "I found out that the bomb used was no ordinary shit. It's a muggle bomb or something, said it was altered using a Bombarda Spell and enhanced with Concealment and Timing Charms."

"So, you mean this place isn't safe anymore?" Allison, who was quiet the entire time, finally spoke.

"It's…I don't really know. They suspect an inside job. They're still trying to find out if the target is Mr. Harris or somebody else, and what the motives of the killer are," Elena answered.

 _No, I'm the freaking target!_  Draco wanted to shout but knows better than to do such. He doesn't have a proof. All he knew was that if he got here on time and started the meeting with Mr. Harris sitting behind his desk and Draco on a Conjured chair, his organs are everywhere by now.

 

Draco's insides shuddered with the thought.

He's in danger. It was not Harris, it was him.

Apparently, not caring was a bad move.

•••••••|•••••••

"Have you consulted the authorities regarding this matter, Draco?" Lucius asked.

It was a shit. After what happened in the Prophet building, he went home and owled Greg. Other than being his friend, this man volunteered to be Draco's 'guard' when the threats went climax. He was just so damn smart that he chose that day to give Greg a day off. Fuck him and his talent in timing.

After seven cups of tea and countless paces back and forth, he decided to tell all the people who knew about the threats. The stalker really was insane, and creative for that matter. He—or she or whatever—sent some of the threats to his parents, to Pansy and to Thomas so that they will be the one to give it to him. The bugger. And because of that, Draco had no chance in keeping the threats a secret from his family and two closest friends.

The point was, if the stalker could deliver the threats to his parent's house, to his secretary's office and to his personal editor's flat, then they're in a big fucking trouble as well.

And that’s how he ended up, the following day, in his parent's house, in France, in a mid-October Fall, on a misty Friday afternoon, with five pairs of eyes focused on him.

"I didn't. I'm still thinking about that. But one thing is for sure, we should be more vigilant. I don't want more arms to be blasted."

"It would be better if you inform the authorities dear," Narcissa said sternly. "This matter is getting out of hand. An investigation must be conducted now and you must acquire a professional bodyguard, Draco.

Draco groaned and scowled at Pansy's not-so-subtle smirk.

"I'd rather have Greg, really. And also, I can take care of myself and-"

"I know. And of course, Greg will still be your personal guard. But my son, there should be someone who really knows what to do and what spells to use that should accompany you everywhere."

"Listen to your mother, Draco," Pansy inserted.

"Excuse me," Thomas interrupted, "I clearly understood the situation. But Draco, are you sure that the bombing has something to do with the threats? It could be just some coincident or something."

Pansy rolled her eyes, again with that exaggeration Pansy-style. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you are the killer Thomas."

Indignant, Thomas crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Pansy.

Draco sighed. There they go again.

Thomas Johnson is a good friend of his. They have been, for a long time now. Like him, his father  _was_  also a loyal follower of the sodding Dark Lord. They're both ex-Death Eaters and lived their nightmare in the Manor. He's a good editor and a talented writer, but like him as well, no one wanted to give him a shot at any job. That was why when Draco debuted as a writer, a journalist for the fucking Prophet, he recruited him to be his personal editor.

 

It was insane, Pansy commented. Writers do not need 'personal editors'. Magazine companies and Newspaper admins already have editor to take care the job of editing. But who cares? He has his own world. "It's not like journalists have  _secretaries_  Pansy," Draco reminded her that time.

 

"…and it's not like you care," Pansy was bellowing when Draco went back to listening to their nonsense of a bickering.

"Enough now."

The two stopped and turned to him.

"I guess that's all there is to say. I suggest you two to Floo or Apparate directly to your places. I will go to the Ministry tomorrow to report the case," Draco announced.

Lucius and Narcissa stood and nodded to their son, reminding him of safety measures and spells. Narcissa held Draco's hands and squeezed lightly, flashing him a reassuring smile. The couple left the room to take care of some errands. Thomas nodded to Draco as well then Apparated with a pop, leaving him and Pansy alone in the room.

"Not gonna go home?"

Pansy seemed to hesitate for a moment and opened her mouth. "I want to suggest something."

"Oh please, for the love of Merlin, not this again."

"That's not very nice, Draco."

"Well?"

"I…I thought about what you said, about not trusting the Aurors. I do understand, Draco, that you do not trust those buggers because…well, because you know that they look at you as the infamous son of an ex-Death Eater and nothing else. And of course because you exposed their connections to the black market, but…"

Pansy looked fairly calm, except for the fact that she's picking on the hem of her cardigan. Draco knew better than to believe her front.

Gesturing for them to sit on the armchair, he watched her obey and took a sit as well. With arms folded, he prodded, "But what?"

"You do realize that not all of them is like that."

Draco gave it a thought. It's true, yes. It's reasonable, yes. But still.

"I see what you're trying to tell me Pansy, but how will I know which one of them is sane? Or even if any of them has a sense of integrity left in their filthy brains? Is there any spell I can use to detect which one of them can be tru-"

"Potter," Pansy interrupted in a stern voice that now matches her stern eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"Potter. You want sense of integrity? And lawful? And can be bloody trusted? Then there you go, Harry Potter." Pansy arched her eyebrow and leaned on the chair, challenging Draco to oppose her words.

"I…" Fuck. It never came to Draco's mind that this conversation would go like this. "Wait. Didn't he quit the Aurors? Then that means that indeed, there's no honest and trustworthy Auror in the world anymore," Draco pushed, knowing that he's very far from the point now.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll give you that. But what I'm trying to say is that Potter can be your…well…bodyguard. He was an excellent Auror—that according to Witch Weekly. He fucking defeated the oh-so-bloody-noseless Dark Lord, didn't he? He knows the right way to protect others and the people around him."

"You must know that your persuasion skills are not so effective, darling. The idea of hiring Saint Potter as my bodyguard crosses the highest level of insanity."

Pansy opened her mouth again but Draco quickly added, "I know you think we must refuge to desperate measures, but I'm not yet that desperate enough to do  _that._  I appreciate the concern, Pans, I really do."

Pursing her mouth, she stood up and raised her wand. "Suit yourself, Draco Malfoy." Then she Apparated.

•••••••|•••••••

Harry scowled at the offending paper as he blankly stirred his tea. It's already the third day since his 'unexpected' resignation, but his face was still unashamedly posted in the front page. Each fucking day, different nonsense speculations and really-sodding-far-from-the-truth rumors had filled the front page of Daily Prophet. Plus a matching black and white picture of his tired and ugly self. What more can he ask for?

_It could be that our Wonder Boy has decided to settle in his life and create a family. The fact that the Boy-Who-Lived is indeed loveless and available now, creates a stir of thrill among our hopeful young ladies of his age…_

 

That rotten Rita Skeeter. She deserves to be skinned alive. Slowly.

Scowling even more, he stood up and left the morning paper on the kitchen table and walked to his living room with his tea safely held.

 

Loveless? What the heck is that? He's not loveless, he just doesn't have any girlfriend now. He has Teddy, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Neville, Ginny, and so many other people that fills him with love. Not having a girlfriend didn't mean anything at all. No.

Deciding to sit in front of the fireplace, he sat on the hearthrug and tucked his legs under his chin, sipping and enjoying his tea in silence. It has been quite a morning. He woke up finding a familiar owl perched on his window sill. The parchment contained a letter from his former boss, asking his help one last time on a case about a bombing incident in the building of the Prophet. It's interesting, but let them do their shit.

Inhaling the mingled scent of earl grey and burnt wood, Harry went on to his musings peacefully. That was, until sudden green flames flared to life and one Ronald Weasley, reduced to nothing but his head, formed amidst his fireplace.

"Mate!" Ron greeted cheerfully, head bobbing in enthusiasm.

"Nice to see your head, mate. Something the matter?" Harry managed to greet while suppressing a chuckle behind his cup. Ron's face just seemed so funny in a Fire Call every time.

"Nah, none really. I just- I thought it's pretty wise to check on you and remind you about our deal."

Deal…? What deal was he- oh fuck! He almost forgot his punishment when he lost their bet that Friday night out.

Ron snickered, very much aware of Harry’s expression and the reason for it. "Seeing as your whole and healthy, and jobless, excuses will not be accepted." Posing that 'I'm-thinking-pose' and then, "That's all, I think. Don't forget, Sunday—which is tomorrow, 8:30 pm, Ciao Ciao Cauldron's Finest." And with that, the Fire Call ended.

Harry gave out a heavy sigh. Maybe he's really loveless. What with all these not-so-subtle ways of his friends to give him dates. It's not that he didn't appreciate it, he just wanted to rest for awhile with no head-winding love life at the side.

He was still musing with the idea of drowning himself with tea, and maybe he'll get tea-sick, and he will be excused from attending that horrible date, when there was a loud knock at his door.

He sipped the last drop of his now-cold tea and crossed the room towards the door to see who the mystery visitor was. When he turned the knob and pulled the door open, the cup clutched by his other hand almost fell in his shock to see the person at his doorstep.

Pansy Parkinson.

•••••••|•••••••

Malfoy Malfoy Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy.

Draco sodding Malfoy.

Harry repeated like a mantra as he walked back and forth in his room. Stopping at the middle and realizing that dizzying himself wasn't going to help, he flopped down heavily onto his mattress.

Oh for fuck's sake. This was not what he expected for his beautiful weekend morning. Harry scrubbed his face harshly and sighed. Bugger the insane request of his boss, the fucking Prophet's speculations and Ron's attempt for blind dates.  _This_ , this Malfoy thing, was the worst. What a bizarre Saturday morning indeed.

 

Damn. He'll get nowhere in just sitting here and well…and doing whatever it was he’s doing. He needed to think,  _properly think._  And of course, the perfect remedy was a cup of soothing tea.

 

Making up his mind, Harry stood up determinedly and scurried down the stair to his beloved kitchen.

It had been awhile since he last heard of Malfoy. It was that time when Hermione announced that the person behind her favorite anonymous articles in the Prophet was no other than his one time nemesis, Draco Malfoy.

_Heating the kettle._

 

It was intriguing at the very least. Truth was, Harry did not know what to do with that information. He was simply surprised, so as Ron, that Malfoy: _"He’s probably changed Harry. Everyone does. And his opinions about the Ministry are indeed very straight forward and open-minded,"_ according to one Hermione Granger.

_Whisss, splash, clank._

 

And it had been a million years when he last saw the man. At that trial. Being involved again with Malfoy in some way is really unnerving for Harry. It's like a freezing cold water splashed to his face.

_Ayynk, tick, tsss._

 

It's not like there's anything wrong with the man. There's just…there's just something in him that with merely hearing his name, Harry goes insane.

_Sigh, sigh, sigh._

 

Putting two sugar cubes in his cup, Harry decided to forget anything about what's wrong with Malfoy or what's wrong with him. There's a more important matter to handle.

  
Parkinson's words,

_Potter, I know this seems surreal but Draco needs your help…I guess he thinks that you won't accept the job if we really did try to contact you that's why he didn't want to consider this option. He's a prat you know. Afraid of rejection cuz he always gets what he wants._

 

Someone was trying to kill Malfoy. An unknown stalker. And the git—stubborn as he is—did not want to ask for an Assistant Bodyguard from the Aurors. According to Pansy, it's a matter of trust. He can't really blame him. After all, he very well exposed the unseen dirty side of his former colleagues.

Now the problem was, even if Harry actually wanted to help him, he's pretty sure he'll be just get kicked out and sent home. Pansy's words seemed to register in his mind that Draco would rather get killed than be protected by Harry.

But why him? Why did Parkinson chose to wager herself into visiting someone she's not really particularly close to? And another matter was the bombing incident case that Pansy narrated, in which his best friend was in-charge and his former boss asking help for. Ron didn't know about Malfoy, or his stalker. If whatever Pansy's saying was true, not just Malfoy was in trouble.

The people around him as well.

Harry understood this type of stuff. Lunatics that do not care about others, their only mindset is to kill their target. And if it means killing some other bunch of people, they don't give a fuck.

Drowning the last of his tea, Harry got to his feet and hurried to his bedroom to get dressed. He had already made up his mind.

•••••••|•••••••

Fire everywhere.

Scent of burning parchments and death lingers all around him.

So hot. Burning hot. Flares trying to reach him out and lick his skin with devilish heat.

He's gonna die. He is.

A hand.. There's a hand.

"Draco," whispered a raspy voice.

He's here. He's going to save him.

"Draco," he said louder this time.

Potter...

Draco snapped his eyes open, breathing hard as if he'd almost drown. He clasped the silk-soft sheets beneath his hands and stared at the ceiling. He's in his room, not there. Not in the Room of Requirements.

"Oh for fuck's sake! I thought you're gonna die!" Pansy scolded and glared at Draco.

"Fuck. What time is it?" Draco whispered and scrambled into a sitting position.

"Thirty minutes to lunch, sleepy head. Dress up because we'll eat in that favorite place of yours."

Draco raised his eyebrow to this unusual offer. "Sure, but you'll pay."

"Of course, darling. Now get up!" And with that, Pansy left the room.

 _That's weird. Really weird._  Draco thought as he pulled himself up and went to the bathroom.

Pansy hated Draco's favorite restaurant, said everything there was too sweet and will cause her diabetes. Because it really was. Draco likes anything sweet, he  _loves_  anything sweet.

 

And so why would his friend offer to have lunch—and pay for it—with him in _Sugar Rush_? Maybe the world's about to end. Or maybe she slipped and hit her head with something hard? Draco had no idea.

Clean and alert, he picked a grey sweater and black trousers. Simple but elegant, that's what he is.

•••••••|•••••••

"It's just an innocent Mango Cashew Cake, Pansy. No need to need to abuse it with your dubious fork," Draco commented as he watched her friend poked warily at her ordered dessert.

"Too much sweet can make a woman fat, you know," she countered with a death glare.

"Of course, my dear. But then why bother asking me to have lunch with you in this scary fattening place if you do not like it?" Draco asked with suspicion.

"Oh shut up. I just want you to enjoy it you prick."

“Is that so? Have you forgotten the wonderful fact that we're both Slytherins, Pansy dear?" Draco mocked.

"I hate you. You-"

"Wait," Draco interrupted, mind clearing up, "did _you_ do something? Something that would probably kick your conscience hard enough to bring me here?"

"I did not do anything Draco," Pansy said with a long-suffering—and too dramatic for her own good—sigh.

"Yes you did. And you certainly should spit it out now."

Pansy's narrowed eyes suddenly turned into amusement, and not a good one. "No, Draco Malfoy. I think between the two of us, you are the one who have something to share."

Confused, Draco sipped from his Lemonade drink and asked, "What the sodding balls are you talking about?"

Smirking, Pansy speared slowly her cake and looked at Draco. "About your intense feelings and overwhelming desire for Potter."

Draco choked unceremoniously, alongside coughing harshly, spluttering Lemonade everywhere.

"Oh for- You're unhinged, did you know that?" Draco accused eyes wide in horror.

"Am I?" Pansy retorted, completely dead-pan.

"You got to be serious. If there are any intense feelings here, that'll be anger and ultimate disgust to his very person. And desire? My utmost desire right now is to murder you as many times as I can."

"Is that so?"

"You're mad."

"You too, for Potter I mean."

"I-" sensing that his complains will get nowhere, he pursed his lips and prepared to ask the only question he could think of. "Why on earth did you think I'm mad for that goody goody git anyway?"

Her smirk deepened to so many levels that her face began to deform in Draco's eyes. "My darling Draco, ever since I mentioned the name of that goody goody git, nothing went out of your mouth anymore but 'Potter'. Potter here, Potter there, Potter everywhere." She paused and then her voice turned into a scary pitch of falsetto. "'That stalker is insane and fucking self-centered. Not really different from that sodding Potter', 'Rich people like that bloody Potter don't need a job. I bet he planned to waste his life eating treacle tart and dying on his couch'. And, just a minute ago, 'This wine comes from a rare magical plant called Greesha. I bet people with deranged taste and no class like Potter don't even know this is a wine.'"

"I do not sound like that. And you can't blame me if my sense of truth and honesty can't help but mention the disgusting things about that...creature," Draco defended with a scowl.

"All right then. I conclude that it's not you, but you're 'sense of truth and honesty', who's in love with the Golden Boy."

Scowling, Draco decided to leave it and concentrate to a more important matter at hand, his Mud Pie Sundae with Froggy Bits.

•••••••|•••••••

After the lunch, the two Apparated to Wiltshire to continue their work that won't miraculously disappear even if they strongly wished them to. With a swish of his wand, the gates of Malfoy Manor opened. They walked through the vast garden, passing the imposing fountain and crowded peacocks that seemed to have some kind of a meeting, whatever they are doing. All through the walk were Pansy's wailings about the new coat she bought and her ever-so-annoying enquiries about Draco's love life, which was, obviously none.

Having managed to avoid the apocalypse courtesy of Ms. Pansy Parkinson, and dodging her questions for that matter, they finally entered the Manor and found Winky in the foyer, nervously wringing his hands and waiting for them.

Draco narrowed his eyes and approached the elf. "Is there something wrong?"

"No! No, of course there's nothing wrong Master Draco."

"Then why are you here?"

"Err…Master is having a visitor, sir. Winky tried to keep him out but he insisted to enter. We is telling him that Master Draco is not home but he would not listen."

Draco's blood ran cold at the thought that it could be his stalker. Has he finally got tired of playing and decided to end Draco now? But…

"Ahem…" Pansy coughed dramatically, seeming to try to get Draco's attention. "I left quite a bollocks of files to review and I still need to compile your messages for the day, Draco. So if I may be excused." And with that, she quickly turned and left on the way to her office.

Draco did not even hear her words and noticed her departure. He's too soaked with the idea of why his elf would let the man enter. Even though  _he_ —whoever he is—insisted, it's not enough of a reason for Winky to allow him inside.

 

"But why did you let him in?" he finally blurted out.

The elf's marble-round eyes filled with fear. "B-because Master Draco, sir, all elves owe Mister Potter a favor for saving them."

Mister Potter…

 

_Potter!_

 

Oh for- So it's  _him_.

 

Draco suddenly remembered Pansy and her unusual behavior. The conversation: "Did you do something? Something that would probably kick your conscience hard enough to bring me here?" —"I did not do anything, Draco.” kept swimming in his head.

 _Did not do anything your face._  That cow, she's gonna bloody explain this to him, and gonna pay. Draco will make sure of that.

 

Turning to address Pansy, he realized that the rotten shit already—and wisely—made her escape awhile ago.

He sighed and pondered over the thought of how surreal it was that Potter was in his house. "Where is he now?"

"In the Drawing Room, Master Draco, sir," the elf answered.

"All right."

"Is there anything else Master wants?"

"Coffee," Draco said, knowing that there's no need to request anything for Potter because the elf already gave him something.

 _Of course, because all bloody house elves owe Mister Potter a fucking favor,_  Draco's mind mocked.

Pushing away his suspicions regarding his elf's loyalty, Draco forced his feet to move towards the sodding Drawing Room. The faster it is done, the better.

When he entered the room, the first thing he saw was Harry Potter sitting on an armchair, eyebrows drawn together as he seemed to investigate his cup of tea.

The prat was pretty much the same, just older, and… _hotter._  His hair was still a perfect home for resting birds, though it became more of a just-shagged look. He's wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and two buttons undone. His lower lip trapped by his teeth as he bit it with uncertainty and obvious concentration.

 

Draco inhaled an obscene amount of oxygen. He can do this. Of course he can. It's just…does Harry bloody Potter really have to look that hot while sitting inside  _his_  Drawing Room?

 

Just fuck.

"My elves don't normally put poison in tea, Potter. I'd rather do it myself so as to make sure there's no mistake."

The raven-haired man raised his head from the tea and blinked at Draco. Scratching the back of his neck and biting his lip even more, he seemed to scramble for words and just settled with "Err, hi Malfoy. Long time no see."

Draco raised his eyebrow and crossed the room to sit on the armchair across Potter's.

"And no, I was not thinking that it has a poison in it," the prat added sheepishly.

"Mmm. But why are you staring at it? Are you trying to find out if it is a tea or not?"

"I-err, no. It actually tastes good, really good. I was wondering what's in it..."

"It's a special kind from Edinburgh. Elf-made and all that."

Harry nodded and took another careful sip from his cup.

"So, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Draco asked just as Winky arrived with his coffee.

Harry licked his lip and looked at Draco straight in the eye. "Parkinson told me about your situation."

"Pansy. Of course." Pansy sodding cow Parkinson. He scowled at his coffee as his suspicions appeared to be cleared.

"Yeah, well…she's only concern for your safety, you know."

"I know."

"And, erm, she asked me if I could help."

Draco stared calmly to those emerald green eyes. This cannot get more surreal and insane.

He sipped his coffee and tasted the bitter-sweet liquid curling around his taste buds. "I figured out. So, what do you suggest, Potter?"

"I want to help," Potter stated firmly.

Draco put his coffee down and folded his arms. "You do realize, Potter, that if you agree to this arrangement—which is to become my official knight and shining armor, not that I'm a damsel in distress mind you—you will be working for me. Meaning, I'll be your boss, a Malfoy."

Potter smiled at his tea. "Malfoy, you know more than anyone else that your attempts in discouraging me is no match to my stubbornness."

"I know. Bloody Gryffindors."

Surprisingly, Potter laughed. It sounded rather good in contrast to the eerie silent that wrapped the room. Draco watched him as Potter's lips came in contact to the rim of the cup. Those fucking lips…so…

Struck by the sudden realization of the direction of his thought, he scowled again at his own cup of coffee. Now was not the time to fancy a one-time nemesis slash I-can-be-your-bodyguard.

"I understand your natural instinct of jumping head first to save dying kneazles and trapped puffskeins. I appreciate your visit Potter, but I do not need your help. I've got Greg to protect me. And you should know that Pansy is a bit exaggerated most of the time, it isn't really as bad as to come to the point that we need the Vanquisher of the Dark Lord to be involved, believe me."

"I do remember saving you before Malfoy. So do you mean that you're a dying kneazle, trapped puffskein, or both?" Potter reasoned acidly.

"Don't start, Potter."

"I thought you'd changed, Malfoy. After all these years, you're still that selfish prick you've always been."

Rage piling up, Draco's hands flew to his wand pocket. "Well at least, I'm not an orphan adopted by a bunch of dirty little weasels."

"Don't talk about them like that!" Potter angrily spat, rising and reflexively pointing his wand to Draco.

Draco stood up and mirrored Potter's stance. "And why not? It's actually a surprise that they managed to support another scrawny child amidst the whole lot of their redhead brood." Draco was surprised and amused all at once that he was actually enjoying this. Bugger it all but he really did miss tormenting Potter all this time. It had been awhile.

Wand hand shaking in rage, Potter narrowed his eyes at him. "Of course you'd be surprised, Malfoy. After all, you're an only child of a Death Eater, are you not?"

"You don't know anything, Potter."

"I know quite a lot, Malfoy."

"Oh of course you do. Perhaps things like how to stick your nose on other people's business like what you're doing now?" Draco smirked smugly.

There was a long silence.

Nothing can be heard except for the roaring of fireplace and the chirp of birds outside.

The two glared daggers at each other, wands still pointed to the other. Emerald green eyes versus stormy grey ones. The atmosphere was intense and dark, filled with crackling magic that begged to be released. Sweat soaked and heat rolled, but neither wanted to break eye contact and admit defeat.

The silence slowly stretched to minutes until a bark of laughter resounded from across Draco. Fucking Potter was laughing. He's not sure what's funny or what he's laughing about, but he better be sure that it's not Draco he's laughing at if he still wanted to see tomorrow, Boy-Who-Lived be damned. Draco was in the mood for murder anyway.

"What?" Draco asked, annoyance clear in his tone.

"I-" Potter who was clutching his stomach and laughing like some mad bloke escaped from asylum couldn't seem to form a proper response, much to Draco's disgust.

"Are you finished yet Potter? Because as much as I love to watch you laugh at me, I still have more things to do." Draco sneered and glared dangerously at Potter.

"Hey, I'm not- I'm not laughing at you," he managed.

"That's very believable indeed."

Potter wiped his eyes and stood straight, panting heavily from all the unnecessary laughter. "All right, I'm finished. And please stop looking like a cute little puppy that just got kicked out."

Draco's eyes went wide in horror. "How dare you compare me to a…dog?!"

Potter laughed again, the sound sending an unnecessary shiver down Draco's spine. "Cute little puppy, not dog," he corrected. "I was just laughing because it has been a long time since we last, err, childishly pointed our wands at each other. Don't you think it’s funny how after all these years, we still go all immature and get into each other's nerves? I kind of miss it though, to be honest."

Potter's smile was a sight to behold. It's warm and real and made Draco's stomach dance a Boogie. "So you missed me?" he teased.

Grinning even more, Potter took a step forward. "Maybe?"

Draco only rolled his eyes and stayed rooted from where he was standing.

Potter took another step forward. "You need to understand Malfoy. This whole mess is not just about you. Everyone else who knew is not safe as well."

Draco frowned. "I know."

"You can't just rely on Goyle. And if you really wish for the safety of the people around you, you know what to do." Another step forward.

Potter was now just half a meter away, the scents of forest, Quidditch and something sweet wafting around Draco. If not for the long years of practice, Draco would not be able to look at Potter in the eyes, those brilliant green eyes. Inhaling the masculine and woody scent of Potter, he realized that he looked even more handsome up close.

"So, deal?" Potter offered his right hand for Draco to shake.

Draco nodded and obediently shook Potter's hand. It was a simple truce. Draco was about to withdraw his hand when all of a sudden, Potter pulled him using their joined hands impossibly closer towards him. Potter's face came closer and closer, green eyes hidden by the soft slide of eyelids and eyelashes grazing Potter's face. Closer…closer…

Fuck. It took him quite sometime to realize that Potter was kissing him. There was no tongue, only soft lips against soft lips. It was simple. And yet, it brought a warm sensation all over his body and made his heart thump wildly. Draco inhaled deeply; forest woods, tea from Edinburgh, and something like treacle tart all mingled under his nostrils.

When Potter pulled away, it seemed that he's just as surprised as Draco was. With all his remaining power and dignity, Draco managed to raise his eyebrow.

Potter realized that their hands were still holding each other and quickly claimed back his hand. He looked both sheepish and embarrassed all at the same time.

"It's…erm, a form of seal. You know, to seal a deal. Or something like that,” Potter stuttered.

"A kiss?"

"Yeah… Anyway, since I'm already officially in the job, I think I better check those threats now."

Draco nodded. "Pansy has them."

"Err, right…" Then Potter immediately walked out the room.

Exhaling harshly, Draco's finger absently traced his lips, still lingering with the abrupt kiss. He didn't know why, how, or what the heck happened.

All he knew was that he's fucked up.

•••••••|•••••••

 _Just what the heck happened?_  Was the new mantra of Harry’s mind as he forced his legs to walk. He kissed him. He kissed  _Malfoy_. Oh Merlin's glittering arse.

 

His head ache in confusion and shock. He just kept on walking, turning here, turning there. He couldn't even remember where he was going. The only important thing was to get away. Away from the room. Away from Draco.

Feeling his legs start to complain for this very childish and irresponsible response to the situation—which was walking aimlessly and endlessly around Malfoy Manor—he came into a halt. Harry panted harshly and anchored his right hand to the nearest flat surface to steady himself.

Frustrated, confused, angry and disturbed all at once, Harry rubbed his face and hoped that everything would just go away. But when he opened his eyes, the aristocrat patterns of tapestry and the dark shade of maroon of the carpet were still present. Sighing, Harry decided to just forget it, find a reasonable explanation in case Malfoy asked, do his job, and deal with this later. Later. Yeah, that's better.

First thing's first. Be professional. Do his job.

Now, the problem was, he can't remember what he's supposed to do. What was it? Oh, yeah, right. The threats. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose hard. He really wanted to punch his face, but this will do for now.

He can do this. Yes he can.

Now, he's mission was to check the threats which were kept by Malfoy's secretary, Parkinson. If only there's a way to know where he was now…Harry's peripheral vision suddenly caught a glimpse of long ears and blue fabric. Without second thoughts, Harry turned and ran after the elf. "Hey!"

The elf jumped and froze. Guilt flooded Harry for scaring the poor creature and approached it carefully. "Sorry for that. I was just meaning to ask where the heck I am now."

The elf turned slowly and finally fixed Harry with eyes full of admiration. "Winky would be very glad to serve Mister Potter, sir."

"Right. Thanks…err, so where am I now?"

"Sir is in the West Wing of Malfoy Manor, first floor corridor."

"I see. Can you take me to the office of Ms. Parkinson, please?

The elf named Winky nodded eagerly, ears flapping dangerously and looked like it might fall. "We is going to take you there Mister Potter, sir."

After thanking the elf and trying very hard to convince it that he didn't need anything anymore, he finally arrived at his destination and knocked at the chocolate brown mahogany door with complicated leaf carvings.

Parkinson opened the door and stared at Harry, dark brown eyes wide in surprise and mouth hanging open as if to invite flies in. Torn between amusement and concern (that actual flies will take the opportunity), Harry tried to smile an I'm-here-for-business kind that seemed to fail. "So…I wanted to see the threa-"

"You're still here.…" Parkinson said faintly with that weird kind of awed voice.

"Yeah, I'm still here. Anything wrong with that?"

Seeming to snap back to reality, she smiled apologetically and opened the door for Harry. "No, of course there isn't. I was just…well, it's a surprise that Draco didn't chase you out with a broomstick."

Harry entered the office and sat on the conjured seat next to her desk. "Looking back to the conversation that took place, I'd rather say that he would chase me with a hex or two, not a broomstick."

Parkinson smirked as she settled behind her desk. "So you convinced him? Did he agree?"

"I think so. But it wasn't really easy ya know," Harry said while contemplating on the idea that he's having a proper conversation with Parkinson the second time now. Surely, the world wasn't ending, was it? He had kissed Malfoy and it didn't, so maybe it still won't this time.

"He can really be an arse if he wants, Potter," Parkinson commented while shaking her head and sighing in a very theatrical way. Harry thought. Draco was definitely right when he mentioned that she's often exaggerating.

"I agree with that. Anyway, I'm here to get the death threats. And also, can you please owl Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy and that Johnson guy. Kindly tell them to gather here because I need to discuss some things," Harry said all in one breath and tried to muster the most polite smile he can.

"Aye aye sir!" she responded with a hand flying to her forehead in a manner of soldier salute.

•••••••|•••••••

Checking and rechecking the Manor's wards was not really hard, except for the fact that it was  _so_  huge. Adding more spells and wards were harder. Not just because the house had so many fucking rooms which meant many Sensoring spells to do, but because he needed to ask the permission of Malfoy. And asking Malfoy meant seeing him and  _talking_  to him. And doing so meant trouble.

 

Fortunately, Malfoy chose not to mention anything that happened in that room. Both of them were quiet as Malfoy altered the wards in order to allow Harry to intervene with it and add his own spells. With all the work needed, burying the 'thing' that happened and the fact that in the end of the day, he still needed to talk to Malfoy about being his bodyguard—which meant following him every- _bloody-_ day, every- _bloody-_ where—was easier than expected. The only problem left now was how he will deal with Malfoy's parents later. It had been years since they last saw each other. And he definitely didn't imagine that they would meet again, like this, in this place, in this situation.

The doom had finally arrived when Parkinson told him that the group was already flocked in the Garden Room—in Narcissa's request—and was waiting for him. Gathering up all his willpower, he followed Parkinson to the said 'Garden Room'.

And indeed, it did fit its name. What with all the green delights everywhere: vines snaking the high windows, hanging plants proud with their immense beauty, varieties of other leafy and flowery plants in different sizes and arranged in perfect position that highlight each of them, and colourful flowers that decorate each table.

In the centre of the room were armchairs that circle around one table. Three of the armchairs were occupied by three blond beauties, one was occupied by a caramel-haired guy with blue eyes that were unfamiliar and two other armchairs that were lovely and unoccupied. For him and for Parkinson.

Inhaling deep and ignoring the feeling that he's walking to his own funeral, Harry posed the most professional smile he can muster and strode in the room to his own share of armchair.

The caramel-haired bloke—that Harry guessed was Thomas Johnson—looked up from the book he's reading, Lucius Malfoy turned his head from what seemed like looking out at the garden and Malfoy and his mother stopped from what appeared to be an argument to regard his presence.

There was a deafening silence as each of them, except for Draco Malfoy and Parkinson, coolly stared at him.

Lucius was the one to break the silence. "I dare say that Ms. Parkinson and Draco forgot to mention that the bodyguard was you, Mr. Potter."

 _Forgot to mention? So they didn't tell them it was me. Fucking Slytherins,_  Harry thought and he watched Malfoy and Parkinson guiltily darted their eyes everywhere except to him. "I understand it was a surprise, Mr. Malfoy."

 

"So I assume that you will be the Private Bodyguard of my son?" Lucius enquired.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. In fact, I already started adding spells and strengthening the wards even more to ensure your son’s safety." Harry hoped to all deities that his calm front won't give away.

"Mr. Potter, I would like to ask why you want to gather us here. Is there any matter?" Narcissa Malfoy put it with that same sharp edge, but softer compared to Lucius' style.

"Indeed, Mrs. Malfoy. I know that all of you are well aware that somehow you're involved in this whole mess. I think it would be much better if you will all stay in the Manor for awhile until the stalker is captured."

"Stay here? You mean live here?" the caramel-haired guy asked incredulously, blue eyes going wide.

"Yes. Look, I know this is really a lot of a hassle, but we should better be safe than sorry. I think it's better if you will all just stay in an area that's heavily warded and watched by the Aurors."

When Parkinson opened her mouth to complain, Harry raised a hand to stop her. "You already know about the incident in the Prophet building. The victim was thoroughly injured and is still admitted at St. Mungo's even at this very moment. My friend is the one in charge in the case and he said that the bomb used is no joke. Clearly, this stalker doesn't care about anything but to get to his target, and he or she won't think twice of killing others just to do so."

The statement seemed to frighten the occupants of the room, because when Harry finished speaking and looked around him, Parkinson's eyes were as wide as saucers, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had their lips pursed into a thin line, Draco Malfoy inhaled sharply, and the caramel-haired guy was gripping the arms of the chair tightly.

"So…would it be fine?"

To Harry's relief, everyone nodded slowly. Harry silently congratulated himself in the realization that his persuasion skills wasn't that bad after all.

Mission number two completed. Next, Ronald Weasley.

•••••••|•••••••

It was already past seven when he took his dinner. He already finished the wards and asked a favor from a trusted colleague in the Auror Dept, to substitute him for awhile in guarding so that he can deliver the news to Ron.

The plan was to ask Ron's team to accompany the Malfoys, Johnson and Parkinson in packing their things. Harry would also pack his own tomorrow morning with them. The idea of staying in the Manor with these people was revolting, but he didn't have a choice, did he?

Shrinking the parchments of threats, encircling it with a sphere—a spell he learned as an Auror—to preserve any finger prints or magical traces and shoving it into his pocket, he went to Apparate to Ron and Hermione's house. He was hoping that his friend would consider this situation to cancel his impending date.

•••••••|•••••••

"That's just bollocks mate," Ron commented later on when Harry finished telling his tales as they eat their second serving of fish and chips that they ordered by delivery.

Hermione was nowhere to be seen because according to Ron, she's in the Ministry doing whatever it is that only she understands.

"I know."

"Though, can't understand what the point of stalking is. Malfoy is a journalist, a loud one in fact. It's not a surprise that someone wants to kill him after all those stories that he published. But why the need of stalking?"

"He said he's gonna expose another Ministry corruption that's due to appear in the papers this Wednesday. What do you think?"

"We're still investigating the angle of motive here. Now that I know it's Malfoy who's the main target and not Harris, I need to inform my team."

Harry nodded solemnly and leaned on the sofa. His talk with Ron was pretty smooth. There's still that familiar disdain that was always directed to Malfoy, but as the good Auror he is, he let that pass and listened eagerly to the story about the threats. Harry told him everything that he knew and everything that happened, starting from when Parkinson knocked on his door. But of course, only the edited version. No need to babble about unnecessary things such as the 'thing' that happened in the Drawing Room of Malfoy Manor.

"Hey…I was thinking…" Harry started. He's not really sure if this will work but somehow, his persuasion skills were effective to the Malfoys, so why not try a shot at this?

"Yeah?"

"You remember the planned date tomorrow? I'm not really…err…sure that I could go. You know, what with all the body guarding whatnots and packing my things…and-"

"Harry."

"What?"

Ron heaved a sigh of obvious exasperation, ”Mate, please. I already told Vera that you agreed. She's expecting you. And more to the point, don't you think it's too late now to back out?"

Filled with a newfound guilt now, Harry decided to just continue and deal with his conscience later. "But Ron, you know how important it is not to leave Malfoy alone for long, especially now that the whole lot of those involved will be staying with him too."

"Sorry mate, but you'll have to go." Harry wanted to reason out again but Ron's stern face made him stop. "Even if it means I will need to go through my worst nightmare of my life and substitute you in guarding Malfoy for an hour while you are drinking some expensive wine with a beautiful girl in a lavish restaurant."

Harry was shocked. Ron was willing to do something that he'll never do in a million years just for him to attend the date, just for Harry to be happy. The problem was, will dating someone he barely knew can make him happy?

"Come on, mate. Vera is a nice woman. I really think you're good for each other. I wouldn't set her up with you if Hermione didn't agree as well and you know that."

Forget all those laziness and insistence that he didn't need a girlfriend. His best friend was doing this for him, the least that Harry can do was comply. He just hoped that there will be no more dates and if ever there was, he'll be able to avoid it. Hopefully.

Harry sighed and smiled at his best friend. "All right. What else can I do, you seem to be very concerned about my love life." Or lack thereof, his traitorous mind supplied. "Thanks for the chips mate. See you tomorrow at the Manor," he said while standing up.

Ron nodded. "Do you want me to send an Auror for you to assist in packing?"

"No thanks. I think I can manage." And with that, he went out and Apparated to the Manor.

When the whirling and pulling sensation started to cease, the enormous iron gates came into view. Harry sighed when he remembered that he couldn't Apparate directly to the Manor because Apparition was not allowed on the grounds.

Harry opened the gates easily. Now that he already has the access to the wards, he can already go in and out of the Manor. Harry remembered Parkinson's words about Malfoy's inability to trust the Aurors as he started his walk. It must really be hard for Parkinson to go to him and tell him things without the consent of Malfoy. She told Harry more than enough of what he needed to know. Some things that Malfoy would never want him to know.

He kicked a strayed pebble as he rounded the corner. He cannot blame Malfoy for not trusting the Aurors. After all that he'd been through, anyone in his position would hardly trust anyone. Even Harry.

The smell of Autumn is wonderful and Harry realized that having a stroll on the Malfoy grounds is not really that bad. In fact, he liked it. The sturdy trees swayed a bit when a wind blows hard, the blooming flowers of many kinds seemed to welcome him as he near the Manor, and the fountain, it's the most magnificent one Harry had seen. Across the fountain was a window that Harry could easily see from his spot. The room it displayed was very familiar…really familiar- oh,  _oh_. The Drawing Room.

 

When Harry entered it the first time since the war, the horrid memory of Hermione being tortured washed back at him. It's terrible. But shockingly, the room had changed so much. So much that Harry cannot picture the old one anymore. And somehow, it's lighter, brighter, and so much better. It even surprisingly made Harry comfortable. Now though, it already held a different kind of memory. Not a horrid one but somewhat. It's weird, confusing, and filled Harry with indecipherable feelings.

He had absolutely no idea what possessed him to do that 'thing'. Yes, what happened, or rather what he did, is now officially called the 'thing'. He'd managed to avoid thinking and remembering it for the day, but he can't just escape it now. Now that all around him was coated with silence and beauty. Slowing down his pace and thrusting down his hands in his pocket, Harry replayed in his mind the scenes of the 'thing'.

Merlin's balls. And to think, he was the one who initiated the 'thing'.

He did admit that Malfoy had become quite…attractive, over the years. Not that Harry’s attracted to him. No. He's just attractive. Like Fleur, or Charlie, or that bloke in the advertisement at the back of Quidditch Quarterly. And also, he's much taller now and his sharp features had been softened by age.

The thing that Harry cannot understand was that when their hands touched, he felt a weird tingle that travelled down his body. And he just seemed to be magnetized. Maybe it's the bizarreness of the situation. Maybe it was their proximity. Maybe it was the small smile tugging Malfoy's lips. He didn't know. Everything was just one of those impulsive-Harry display. When he pulled him and kissed him.

He was just there looking at him and offering his hand. And he was looking at those grey eyes and everything about him was just beautiful and fuck, he didn't understand anything but all he knew was that he wanted to drag that face closer to him and feel that small smile against his lips. And he did. Really fucking did. Shit.

What the fuck was wrong with him? And what the sodding bollocks will he tell Malfoy? Well, he improvised that it was a seal. Fuck if he knew anything about that. Though…he knew one thing, and that's kiss can really be magically used to form a sort of seal or something.

Surely, that's not really a gay thing to do. It was an impulse, only an impulse. He didn't have any silly crush on him or something. Totally none. It was not far different from all those crazy moments in his life. Just an insane moment, only that.

When Harry finally arrived inside the Manor after a long walk that seemed to take forever—but as it turned out, only 20 minutes—he found caramel-haired guy. He nodded to him in greeting and he nodded back with a wide smile showing set of white teeth.

"Thomas Johnson is it?"

"Yeah, but you can call me Thomas," he said, smile pulling up a notch.

Thomas stepped closer. Actually, too close or Harry's comfort. "All right, Harry it is then for you. Anyway, I have to go. Still need to do some checking."

The weird guy nodded and Harry, almost too quickly, walked the opposite way. There's really nothing wrong with the guy. He just didn't like strangers invading his space.  _It's not like you didn't invade Malfoy's_ , his really-so-traitorous mind supplied.

 

•••••••|•••••••

Draco raked his hand through his hair as he stared at his own reflection. It's already past 10 in the evening and he had now finished all his night rituals. Satisfied that his face was already stress-free, he sighed and went out of the bathroom.

Pansy always mocked him for his vain-culture, she just didn't understand the importance of looking good all the time. No, strike that. She understands actually because she's just as vain as him how much she might deny that.  _Being presentable is the first start of a good day, my dragon. And being presentable is also the first start of a good sleep,_  his mother told him once. Which in turn, he told Pansy. "No, Draco. You only want to be unnecessarily presentable at a very late hour of the night because you're hoping that Potter will fall from the sky at night and straight into your room," Pansy said that time.

 

And of course, she's wrong. It's not about Potter. Especially now that Potter's going to be staying in the Manor. He would like to make it clear that he's not re-applying his facial potions, cinnamon-scented skin lotion and Chameleon body spray just because Potter is somewhere around his territory.

Draco threw himself on his bed. It's been a freaking long day and the only thing Draco wanted now was to sleep and forget everything about creepy stalkers, Harry Potters, ad unexpected kisses.

He's already drifting off to dreamland when a knock resounded all through out his room.

Oh for the love of- Draco swore as he propped himself up to look at the door with hateful narrowed eyes. Whoever dared to disturb him in his date with his long-lost sleep shall suffer the plague of wrackspurts.

There's a knock again. Louder this time. Scowling at the door with feeling, he reluctantly got up and walked across the room to the sodding door. He never felt so much hatred to a door before. Draco turned the knob and pulled the door open.  _Who the heck would be fucking awake at this hour? And who the Merlin's beard is mentally retarded enough to risk their lives in disturbing Draco's sle-_

 

"Err, hey."

Draco blinked. "Potter."

"Sorry to uh…disturb you, I- err, didn't mean to intrude," he said awkwardly, rubbing the back if his neck.

"At this kind of hour?" Draco arched one delicate eyebrow.

"Yeah. I went to Ron and Hermione's house to report about the stalker and everything. I hadn't noticed the time, though."

"So you came back late, I see. But why is the great Harry Potter visiting me in my room whilst it's half past ten?"

"It's already eleven, actually," Potter informed him.

"Thank you for telling me how late it already is, Potter. Which reminds me to suspect your intentions."

Potter blushed crimson red. "No! Err, I mean…I'm here to check you out and the room."

Draco crossed his arms. "Check me out?"

Now Potter's going all tomato with that shade of red. "It didn't sound right," Potter stuttered, apparently just realizing his careless use of words. With a long and suffering sigh, he ran his hands through his hair, the action making Draco feel dizzy as he strives to remain where he was and avoid jumping on Potter. "I want to see if you're all right. And also, I need to check your room and put wards and spells. I was planning to do it earlier today but doing so meant to ask your permission, and I haven't seen you around after I checked the kitchen and went to Ron. And really, I think putting wards in your room should be done as soon as possible."

"Even if 'as soon as possible' means knocking on my door at close to midnight while every other sane people are already snoozing?"

"Sorry about that again. But we never really know when those kind of lunatics decide to attack. This will be just quick. Promise."

Draco opened the door wider for Potter to enter. Potter was wearing a blue jumper and black baggy trousers. Loose enough to disappoint arse-watchers but fit enough to form his arse when he shifted his muscles. It's not really a proper feast for Draco's eyes, but this will do anyway. And damn, the git has a nice arse.

"Really? In my bathroom, Potter? Of all places to start warding?" Draco teased as he watched Potter and his arse disappear inside the aforementioned bathroom.

He couldn't see Potter's reactions because he was hidden inside, but he heard a snort anyway. "In my years as an Auror, I've learned that bathrooms are a good place to hide. Both for the victim and the assailant. One can do many things in the bathroom, you know."

"Indeed, one could do many  _things_  in the bathrooms. The most sensible things you said so far."

 

Potter emerged from the bathroom and rolled his eyes, corner of his lips twitching. Draco sat on the edge of his bed as he watched Potter go around his room, casting spells and strengthening wards.

"Did you already show Weasley the threats?" Draco asked out of pure curiosity.

"Yeah, I did. It was a nice move actually, keeping the threats for investigation."

"Truth is, I would've preferred vanishing them, but Pansy insisted on keeping it. It's not that I lost my sense of intelligence and fostered into impulsive acts like you do. I just thought that the whole thing is a freaking joke of some kind."

Potter nodded and went on pointing his wand to Draco's cabinet. "It's natural to think like that. If I was in your position, I would've ended up using it for trying out the efficiency of my stamp pads."

Draco let out a snort. "Well, before you start nagging me over my irresponsible act of not trusting the Aurors and not cooperating with them, I was actually planning on bringing it to them after Pansy and I had lunch. But as usual, you came strolling in with your Griffindor-ish slash savior-ish knick knacks and my plans went tumbling down as expected."

Potter laughed. It wasn't loud but it oddly sounded pleasant to Draco's ears. "I'm a natural when it comes to tumbling down other people's plans. I'm just good like that."

Draco had the urge to kick him but decided to behave instead. "I just want to ask something though…"

"Ask away."

"When you decided to flock us all—I mean my parents, Pansy and Thomas—here in the Manor, did you ever consider the fact that one of them might be the stalker? Not that I'm saying they are, that's a complete nonsense. It's just…they could be Imperiused or-"

"You don't really have much trust on me, do you?"

"I'm not to be blamed. Pansy was the one who asked your assistance."

"Well," he conceded. "Anyway, I've already got that up my sleeves. And Malfoy, that's the exact reason why I'm putting these wards and spells in your room."

For awhile, there was silence as he continued to pick on his quilt and watched Potter do his work.

Draco realized that no one will open the  _discussion_  if he will not dare to. Potter seemed to be happily pretending that nothing had took place in Draco's Drawing Room. Inhaling deeply and silently cursing his Gryffindor side, he pushed through. "I don't understand why we needed to kiss just to seal a sodding deal."

 

And it's true. He researched and found out that a kiss can indeed be a magical symbol of a sealed deal. But he doesn't understand why of all ways to seal an agreement, Potter chose  _that_.

 

He watched Potter stiffen and freeze, his wand that was swishing here and there a second ago stilled. And, to Draco's great amusement, a blush snaked its way into Potter's nape and ears.

"I-well, I remember that time when Seamus needed to kiss an old bugger just to seal their agreement," he said with a shudder, probably imagining the ill-fated moment of Finnigan.

"You're dodging the question," Draco declared blandly.

"I just thought that it is most fitting." Potter had already resumed his wand-swishing but his posture was still too rigid.

"And why is that? Are you trying to tell me that I look like an 'old bugger'?" Draco prodded, placing a hand behind him on the sheets to lean on it.

"When I asked, Seamus said that kiss symbolizes trust and willingness. It's usually used for ceremonies and agreements regarding marriages and relationships. But for special cases, Aurors use it if they desperately need to help someone who refuses to accept help, though mostly, they use it for those who just came out of asylum or something."

"I see. But I do remember clearly that I have already agreed to hire you, in fact, a bit willingly." Draco paused to wrinkle his nose at the admission. "I even remembered trying to smile…And also, I won't accept the excuse that I look like someone who came out from Asylum because I certainly don't."

"I did not say you are."

"Then why?"

"Maybe…" It took Potter years to answer. "I guess because I just want to make sure that you won't change your mind and decide to be a prat, or something like that," Potter explained. Though his face looked like he's trying to convince himself rather than convince Draco.

"Maybe? I guess? You were really not sure about this are you?"

"Okay fine." Potter turned to face Draco properly and sighed. "It was on bloody impulse. I didn't know what I was doing. Ask my brain not me."

"You're practically talking through your brain right now."

Potter scowled and stood near the bed, pointing his wand at it. "You can't blame me, it's perfectly okay to do weird things if you suddenly learned that a stalker is threatening your rival for seven years, saw him after all this time, and made a truce with them all in one day," he defended. "And anyway, I do think it's about making sure. My system has a something for hard-earned trusts."

"I think I don't have any choice but to accept that for now. Anyway, you're putting spells to my bed?" Draco loved his bed and looking at someone else casting spells at it activated Draco's motherly instincts.

  
"I empathize with your feeling Malfoy, but this is highly important. It's just Sensory and Tracking spells and charms so that if ever something or  _someone_ weird touches your immaculate bed, it's easier to investigate." After explaining, Potter then looked at the bed and the room to criticize his work. Seemingly satisfied, he turned to Draco and smiled that smile that made Draco want to bite his lip. Not that he will ever admit that, even to himself.

 

"There you go. Ron and his team will be here tomorrow to help the others in transferring and also to ensure their safety."

Draco nodded and stood up when Potter started his way to the door. "It was fairly nice talking to you."

Potter smiled again, hand turning the silver knob. "Same here. Good night, Malfoy."

"Good night, Potter."

•••••••|•••••••

The next day, Draco was smug when he remembered Potter's almost midnight visit. He wanted to shout to Pansy that indeed, his night rituals were useful. Then deciding not to when he remembered that he's not doing it for Potter. No, definitely not.

Looking good is for you, not for others, his mother once told him.

Though, he would grudgingly admit that Potter is pleasant to the eyes. But nothing more, really. And Draco just had something for green; green curtains, green ink, green jumper, green scarf, green cover for his novel, green blazing eyes, etc. It's not necessarily his favorite color because he didn't have any favorite color. He simply likes it. Maybe that's why Potter is pleasant to the eyes, because only few people had green eyes. And of course, Potter was one of the few. He always is.

But none of it meant that Draco's attracted to him. Absolutely not.

After his morning routines, Draco contemplated between staying inside his room and finishing his manuscript or going out his room and facing the world.

Sunday morning meant he couldn't get out of the house because everyone else, including the bloody Boy-Who-Became-His-Bodyguard, was busy in packing and transferring their things. When that Merlin forsaken Potter told him first thing in the morning that he can't go out even to the grounds of Manor for the day, he wanted to hex him so badly. He guessed he just had to understand Harry’s 'you have to stay inside' since he's just doing his job. His fucking job. Draco scowled and decided to annoy Pansy instead.

Apparently, annoying Pansy was not so fun. Firstly, because it's pretty boring listening to her comments about her room in the Manor and where she would put this or that. Secondly, because everything he said were either bounced back to him or linked to Potter by Pansy.

When lunch came, Draco had already succeeded in scrabbling 3 pages for the manuscript of his novel. Although, he was not sure if what he wrote was satisfying enough. He's thoroughly distracted because bloody Potter kept on suddenly entering Draco's study and checking on him every 15 sodding minutes.

"You're here again?" Draco asked with much exasperation.

"What?" Potter looked hurt. "I'm just trying to see if you're okay. And seeing as you're still whole and snappy, then I guess there's no need to do that." And he stomped off.

That was the last time Draco saw him.

 _Forget Potter, food first._  Draco scolded himself as he went to the Manor kitchens. Truth was, he could just call Winky and ask for lunch, but he fiercely needed the change of environment. Imprisoning himself inside the Study was not at all healthy.

 

Toad-in-a-hole, Mince Pie and tea were his savior. The simple lunch cleared his mind and filled his rumbling stomach. Satisfied and lifted, Draco went to Fire Call Andromeda. He had promised Teddy a visit today. If he couldn't go there, then he'll just invite them here.

"Cousin Draco!" Teddy shouted when he popped out of the fireplace.

"How are you doing?" Draco scooted and hugged his beloved cousin.

"I'm fine. Grandma Cissa told me that Uncle Harry is here as well!" The little magenta-haired boy jumped up and down.

"That's true. You're uncle Harry will be staying for awhile in the Manor."

"Really? Does that mean I can play together with you and Uncle Harry?" Large innocent eyes pleaded Draco.

Draco hesitated. Playing with Teddy and  _Potter_? That's insane and cra- Again with the large innocent eyes of this sneaky little child. Draco sighed. "Of course we will play together. Now, how about let's go to your room. I bought you a glow-in-the-dark puzzle."

 

Glimmering blue eyes turned honey and went wide with awe. "Glow-in-the-dark?! That's fantastic Cousin Draco, thank you! Will we make hot chocolate too?"

Draco nodded and smiled. Teddy went running for his room as Draco stood and walked after him. When they arrived in the room, he offered the promised glow-in-the-dark puzzles and assisted Teddy in completing the pieces.

Draco lay on his stomach while Teddy sat Indian-style. Together, they formed the picture of a kneazle that when already completed, will move and dance around.

It was after several minutes that Potter suddenly arrived and ruined their joined concentration and peace. "Excuse me," Potter said as he did a theatrical knock, "I'm looking for a mischievous little boy."

"Uncle Harry!" Teddy squealed while scrambling to stand up, and when he ungracefully but successfully did, he ran to Potter, forgetting completely about his puzzle.

"Hey there!" Potter lifted the little monster and carried him around in circles. "How's my little brat?"

Teddy giggled and toppled over in Potter's arms. "I'm not- hey! That tickles- a…hahahahaha…a b-brat!"

"Mmm, are you not?" Potter straightened him up in his arms. "I remember saying something about airplanes before."

"Yeah, airplanes! Let go brrrrooooom!!"

Potter Accioed the said airplane and seconds later, a toy plane came flying to the room. It's a muggle one, nothing special unlike his glow-in-the-dark delight. Draco knew it's childish but he felt left out and forgotten—and less favorite.

"There you go."

"Yay!!!"

To avoid being useless and feeling hurt that Teddy abandoned him easily, Draco stood up and went to the kitchen to make hot chocolate. He bet no one even noticed him leave.

Moments later, Draco went back with three cups of hot cocoa, whipped cream and marshmallows Levitated behind him. When he walked in, he caught them wrestling and laughing on the bed, whooshing the innocent airplane here and there. When Teddy saw the hot chocolate that Draco place on the little table, he squealed at the top of his lungs.

"Hot chocolate!!' Hot chocolate, hot chocolate, hot chocolate!" Teddy chanted and Potter laughed.

Teddy ran and snatched his cup, taking care to choose the one with the most marshmallows on top. "Thank you, Cousin Draco! You're the best hot-chocolate maker in the world!!"

Draco smiled back at his favorite cousin. "You're just saying that to get more whipped cream."

Moments later, Teddy went home with his glow-in-the-dark puzzle and toy plane an hour before dinner and waved goodbye to his Uncle Harry and Cousin Draco.

Draco stared at the fireplace as the green smoke started to waver.

"Malfoy," Potter addressed beside him.

"What?" Draco said without looking away from the fireplace.

"Err, there's something important you need to know," he started uncertainly. "I need to go umm…somewhere later for some…err…some important meeting. No need to worry, Ron excused from his boss for awhile to sub me in guarding. I'll-"

"Where will you go?" Draco finally turned his head to Potter and narrowed his eyes with suspicion at him.

"Just, err, somewhere."

"Why can't I go anywhere but you can?" Draco demanded, crossing his arms.

"I don't know. Maybe because no one is trying to kill me?"

"You're impossible! And you're leaving me to die here with no witnesses?!"

"I said Ron will be here," Potter said.

"He doesn't count as a witness, he's one of the killers," Draco insisted.

Potter laughed and mirrored Draco's stance. "You're dramatic, don't you know that? And here I am, thinking that Parkinson already won the crown of exaggeration. Apparently, it's a tight competition."

"Are you saying that I-"

"What ever it is, no I'm not. Anyway, why did you look so 'out of sorts' awhile ago? Teddy also wanted to play with you, you know."

“Second things Potter. First, I did not look 'out of sorts' or whatever."

"But you looked cross and you won't-"

"Two, I didn't think I'm needed in there anymore because it seemed like the two of you were already enjoying yourselves without me," Draco finished.

Potter leaned forward and Draco's once again washed with that forest-woody scent. "Don't tell me you're…"

"What?"

Potter drew back and appeared to be stifling a laughter. "You're jealous," he declared.

"That's just nonsense, Potter. Why would I be?" Damn, Draco hated it that Potter can easily read him.

"That's a good question, why?" Fucking Potter parried back.

"I was not jealous. I'm merely contemplating on the thought that why in the world would my beloved cousin favor an inanimate and boring muggle toy over an exciting and brain-teasing glow-in-the-dark puzzle."

"You're pouting."

"No I'm not!"

The once stifled laughter became a deviant snicker and Draco could almost see something like a smirk. "Sorry, I was just joking," Potter apologized in a not-so-apologizing tone. "But really, Malfoy, there's no need to be silly. Teddy likes both of his new toys. You just didn't know but when you left, he kept bragging about his new puzzle. It was not at all easy persuading him to play with the inanimate and boring plane that I bought him because he did nothing but show off his puzzle and even requesting me to turn off the lights."

Draco did not know whether to believe him or not. But he's a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors are bollocks at lying. "If you're just flattering me then-"

Suddenly, there was a whoosh of flames and a little child with a deep violet hair stepped out of the fireplace. Behind him was Andromeda.

"Sorry for the interruption but Teddy won't stop crying." Draco and Potter stared at a sniffing Teddy as Andromeda spoke. "He said that a piece of his puzzle is missing."

Red wide puffy eyes turned to them. "I'm really sorry…*hiccup* C-cousin Draco. I-…I will never be able to finish the puzzle now." And then little Teddy started crying again.

Draco immediately went to the rescue and hugged Teddy, soothing the sobbing boy.

"Actually…" Potter spoke loudly and all eyes turned to him as he struggled to get something out of his pocket. His features lightened up when he pulled his hand out and showed a small puzzle piece. Teddy grasped and gripped Draco's shoulders. "Is this what you're looking for? I found it under the bed while I-" But Potter was cut off by Teddy who rushed to him and hugged him tightly.

"Uncle Harry, you found it!" Then, turning to Draco, "Cousin Draco, he found it!"

Warmth filled Draco's heart and he couldn't help but smile. Potter's right—but of course, it would take a million years for Draco to admit that, he was being silly. Teddy loves them both and Draco found the picture of Potter and Teddy together adorable and—err, did he just put 'Potter' and 'adorable' in one sentence?!

Astounded by his own thoughts, Draco coughed and announced if anyone wanted hot chocolate, which was immediately answered by a cheerful "Yes!" from Teddy.

"I think I'll pass," Potter said as he put Teddy down. "I still have to go somewhere, remember? And I think I'm going to be late."

"I demand to know where you're going Potter," Draco said sternly.

"To the…erm…Chu-Chu Cauldrons something."

"Ciao Ciao Cauldron's Finest?"

"Yeah, I think that's it." Potter smiled and waved goodbye to Andromeda and to a questioning Teddy.

Draco called out. "Isn't that in Watford?"

He turned and bloody smiled again. "Is it?" Then he left.

•••••••|•••••••

"I can't believe Harry will live here," the Weasel muttered to himself as they ate dinner in the Dining Room.

Draco picked at his steak. "It's only temporary Weasley, no need to panic."

Weasley scowled and appeared to be warily picking at his own steak. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"And if you're wondering if there's a poison in that," Draco pointed at the offending food, "then yes, Weasley. I made sure that it would kill you the very second you put it inside your mouth."

"Ha ha Malfoy," Weasley said drily.

Weasley arrived minutes after Potter left, looking disturbed and determined all at the same time. The usual tension and snapping were present of course, especially with the fact that it had been years since they last spoke to each other, much less be in one room at the same time.

Potter advised that the best way to make a truce with one Ronald Weasley was through food—not that he wanted truce, he merely wished to be in peace. So what he did was invited the King of Gingers to eat dinner with them. Luckily, he's parents decided to have a dinner date in the Garden Room that day.

Two senior Malfoys and a junior Weasley having dinner was never and will never be in Draco's wildest dreams.

Draco lifted his wineglass and took a sip. "Anyway, where has Potter gone? I'm very well sure that you know his whereabouts, Weasley."

"Why do you care? It's not like you're going to die just because he's not here for an hour."

Draco rolled his eyes. Pansy and Thomas had already long finished eating and retreated to their respective offices to do their jobs—Pansy reviewing and sorting Draco's messages and Thomas, looking over Draco's entry for the Flying Snitch. And Draco and Potter's sidekick were left here alone some time ago.

"Oh of course, I feel so safe. Especially that I'm with the great Auror Weasley," Draco scoffed.

"Did you just mock me?" Weasley asked, mocking issues apparently confusing to him.

Draco put his goblet down and crossed his arms on the table. "I know you know where he is. And I don't know but I have a feeling that there's something very wrong with the situation."

"Did you ask him?"

"Yeah. All he said was 'meeting' and 'Chu chu cauldrons'. He couldn't even say the name of the restaurant properly." Draco shook his head in disbelief.

"Did you believe him?"

"Should I have? Well, maybe a bit. All I know is that it's very unfair that he can bloody go out whenever he likes and I  _can't_. The least thing he could have done was tell me where he'll go and for what the fucking reason. He's not a very good liar, you know."

 

The Weasel stared at him with a look that he can't decipher. "You sound like a scary wife demanding her husband's whereabouts."

Draco narrowed his eyes in contempt. "You're the worst, Weasley. No wonder you-"

"Fine fine. I promised Harry that when he comes back, there will be no broken furniture or injured ferrets, so bloody listen now will you? Harry…well, he…he went on a date."

Draco thought that his eyebrows went impossibly high. “Date? As in dinner date? He left me here with a Weasley just to attend a fucking date?!" Draco hated the fact that his voice went to hysterics.

The bloody Weasel chuckled. "Now you sound like a scary wife who just found out that her husband has been cheating on her."

Draco scowled and immediately gathered back his calm front. "For your information, Weasel-"

"Hey!" Weasley protested.

He ignored it and simply continued. "I hired Potter. That means that he's not working for charity but he is bloody paid to work. And I, for one, refuse to accept the fact that I'm paying him just to abandon me in your care while he's out and about to dally with some random woman," Draco spoke calmly but irritation clear in his tone.

Weasley stood up and slammed his hands on the table. "Vera is not just 'some random woman', Ferret. She is a good friend and she's good at cooking and has a proper job," he countered hotly. Then, realizing that he just almost screamed at Draco, huffed and sat back. "I understand your point Malfoy, but there's no need to speak like that. She's a nice woman. I just hope that…well, Harry will like her."

Draco snorted. "You sound like you're the one who desperately arranged the whole thing." Then, looking up at Weasley, Draco's eyes glinted with absolute amusement when he saw the ginger's guilty face.

 

" _You_  are the one who set him up!" he accused.

 

"Hey! Hermione approved it as well so she has her share of fault too!" he defended.

"And let me guess? Poor Potter did not want any of these did he?"

"Harry doesn't really like going on dates, but he lost our bet, so he had no choice."

"You're sneakiness is a surprise, Weasley. Never thought you'd manage something that clever."

"Just as I have never thought that someone would really waste their time in trying to kill you, Malfoy."

Draco decided that now was not the right time to bite his bait. Arguing with the person who's currently guarding you is not a very nice move. "Nevertheless, I share Potter's grief and despair of going through such thing."

Scowling, Ron spoke. "It's not-"

"Don't worry, Weasley. Draco is only throwing tantrums because he refuses to share  _his_  Potter," Pansy supplied as she strolled inside, bringing her clipboard and a sheaf of parchment.

 

"That's thoroughly nonsensical, Pansy," Draco replied calmly.

Weasley stared at them as if they've become crazy. "I don't understand."

Draco ignored his claim and turned to Pansy instead. "Just how long have you been eavesdropping in our conversation, Ms. Parkinson?" Draco asked, taking care to emphasize 'Ms. Parkinson' to remind her that secretaries should not listen to others'—especially their bosses'—conversations.

Pansy smirked. "Long enough, Mr. Malfoy." She walked across the room to Draco and handed him a parchment. "Mr. Smith owled you and he requested an instant reply."

•••••••|•••••••

After a few days, Draco realized three things. One, that Potter was a total prick. Never mind the lovely arse and green blazing eyes, he's just a bloody prick.

"Why do you have a personal editor? Hermione said that writers do not need those," bloody Potter enquired one morning.

"What are you on about, Potter?" Draco said peevishly.

"I- well, he's just a bit weird, that's all."

"Who, Thomas?" Draco lowered his cup of tea.

Potter nodded solemnly. "Err, is he…bent or something like that?"

The question was awkward but it struck Draco. He put his cup down on the coffee table and folded his arm. "Do you have any problem with being 'bent or something'—as you call it—Potter?"

"I- err…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "None of course. It's just…"

"Are you trying to say something?" Draco pushed bluntly.

Potter's eyebrow knitted, confused. "What do you mean?"

Draco sneered. "Oh I don't know Potter. You seem to be trying to say something. I don't know what you have against homosexuals but I assure you that your nosiness is not at all needed."

"Malfoy, there's no need to get your knickers in a twist. I don't even know what you're talki-"

"Can you just stop pretending Potter? Let's just get this straight, what do you really want?" Draco snarled.

"I was just asking. What's your problem, Malfoy?" Potter stood up from his position and fisted his knuckles.

Draco got to his feet as well and narrowed his eyes. "Asking? Really? I assume that you're not as daft as to observe that Thomas is queer but not realize that I am as well. Is that what you want? For me to shout at your face that I’m gay and all? Are you happy now that you've won, huh?"

For long seconds there was silence. When Draco looked to see Potter's reaction, he looked shocked and idiotic, and everything in between.  _Fuck. He didn't really have any idea, did he? He didn't know...of course he didn't. He's as oblivious as a sloth for fuck's sake._  And that moment, Draco hated the fact that he allowed his emotions to overwhelm him.  _He was just asking about Thomas. He's not trying to say something. Draco, you're a shit._

 

"You're gay?" Potter asked, face a perfect monument of astonishment.

"You did not really know," Draco said, and it was not a question.

"I-…" Potter shook his head and stared at Draco dumbly. "You're gay. You're…gay?"

Draco scowled. Fucking Potter. He really won't make anything easy for him, would he? "Yes Potter, I am. Gay, queer, 'bent or something', fag, whatever you call it."

"So…you're really gay? As in gay as gay? Gay? Really gay?"

Draco didn't know if he wanted to hex Potter or hex himself. He decided to settle with a sigh. "Yes Potter, I am. I really fucking am. So kindly stop saying the word again and again. But if you want to create a song about it, then you're free to do so. Just bloody stop saying it right now."

Potter blinked, seeming to get back to reality. He blushed awkwardly and fidgeted. "No, I won't make a song about it. Err…and well, I don't really have problems with it. My former partner when I was an Auror is also gay, you know. So…yeah."

There was an awkward silence between them. "You can leave now if you want. I remember something about rechecking the wards?" Draco said as politely as he bloody can.

Potter nodded and looked uncertain. Soon, he was making his way out.

He wearily watched Potter as he went out. Satisfied that everything’s safe now that Potter had gone, he slumped back into his chair and sighed heavily. He just told Potter something that he didn't really have to know.

And yes, that was Draco's first realization. Things became worse, which meant that the other two realizations were worse. Things like that just can't be helped.

Two, that this whole set up is a shite. He can't go out whenever he wanted and Potter's everywhere. Everyfuckingwhere.

"I just want to get some fresh air, Potter!" Draco reasoned one time.

"We already talked about this Malfoy. You're only allowed to go out to the grounds of the Manor between seven a.m. to four p.m. It's already past six. It'll be better if you just stay inside," Potter said matter-of-factly.

Draco growled and stomped back to his office.

Draco was cross because Potter's being worse each day. And also because…did he really have to walk around with  _that_  hair, looking all wild and shaggable?!

 

The day after that, Draco needed to meet with the artist-in-charge of the cover art of his new novel. Potter insisted that it's better if Ms. Storrs would just come at the Manor instead of meeting with her at Silver Rod's Magical Cuisines. And as usual, they got into a fight.

"Three things, Potter. First, I'm bloody sick of staying here. Second, this is important because this is for my book and I want to meet her at a decent restaurant where you and your security system are nonexistent. And last, I badly need the food now or else I'll become the killer and murder you intensely, violently, and thoroughly." Draco raised an eyebrow that dared Potter.

Potter pursed his lips. "Fine. But I'll come with you."

Draco may have raised his eyebrow a little bit too much this time. "No."

"Yes."

"No, I'm still your boss, Potter."

"And I'm still your bodyguard."

Draco scowled ad realized that he had no choice anymore. If he's stubborn, Potter is twice as much.

So it ended up like that. Draco would've preferred Greg. He still guarded Draco sometimes and assists Potter. He's subtle and silent and listens to Draco and gives him freedom. He didn't really follow Draco around. And he also claimed to be his assistant just so no one would notice that he's Draco's guard.

The exact opposite of Potter. Potter may be pretending to be Draco's new friend and 'apprentice', in writing so no one would know his real job. But the similarities ended there. He's not-so-subtle, he's noisy and talkative and a perfect abuse to good innocent ears, he whined all the time and contradicted Draco whenever he bloody wished to, he followed him around—even inside the fucking loo, and he gave unhelpful comments every time.

But the thing that Draco hated the most was the way Potter rests his hand on the small of his back whenever they're in the middle of a huge crowd or if there's something suspicious around. Draco contemplated on reminding Potter but realized that he will only appear insecure and conscious, so he just resorted to nonchalance and pretending that he wasn't painfully aware of anything.

He just hated it. Especially when it sent involuntary tingling around his back and made him feel very conscious of Potter's touch. Maybe he just needed to get laid.

Anyway, the last thoughtful realization of his life was that: Three, he's starting to regret doing this. He was bloody right when he told himself that anything to do with Potter is an utter madness, pure madness.

Ever since that first incident in which Potter went with him to meet Ms. Storrs, he had been doing the same every time Draco went out of the Manor. He's everywhere he turned and Draco hated the fact that even after all this time, he still can't get the freedom and peace he wanted.

The security measures and wards in the Manor had also gone insane, even the peacocks were scanned. His parents said that it was needed, Pansy said Potter's just doing his sodding job, Thomas said that he didn't really care, Greg didn't have any comment. But Draco was pissed off. He's choked and he didn't like it. What's more was that Potter was the one who's doing it. Harry bloody Potter. The wanker of all time.

Draco glared at the Prophet as another speculation about his relationship with Potter had appeared. Because of the fact that Harry Potter was always with him whenever he goes out, chicken-minded people think that there's  _something_  between them. And of course, Rita _fucking_ Skeeter jumped at the opportunity, publishing articles full of crap and nonsense. Sometimes Draco can't believe he's actually working for the sodding Prophet.

 

This was getting out of hand. If only there's a way to fire Potter and…Draco blushed at the memory of Potter kissing him to 'seal' their deal came up to his mind. It's not really the time to think of very  _unnecessary_  things.

 

He still had a book-signing to attend to. And if Potter won't allow it, then let him fuck himself.

•••••••|•••••••

Draco fucking Malfoy is a pain in the arse. Harry was never known for temperance, and Malfoy's the best way to test it.

Harry ground his teeth and stomped off to Draco's room. He knocked as loudly and violently as his knuckles can. Malfoy opened the door and raised and enquiring eyebrow.

"What do you need?"

"Why didn't you tell me about the book-signing thing?" he snarled.

Malfoy snorted. "Do I really have to?"

Harry started seeing red. If it hadn't for Parkinson, Harry would never know that Malfoy was scheduled for a public book-signing in Flourish and Blotts tomorrow. "Yes you have to and you know that, you stubborn prick."

"And what will you do, tie me up with a rope?"

Harry immediately pushed away the  _very_  disturbing image that came from nowhere. It was weird. A picture of Draco Malfoy naked and tied up to the headboard of his bed was suddenly conjured in his head without his permission.

 

"You bloody well know that you can't- wait, where are you going?" Harry asked when he noticed that Malfoy was wearing his formal clothes: navy blue button up shirt with cuffs open that deliciously contrasted his pale skin and black trousers that fit perfectly on the right parts and…

"Potter, I know that my crotch is a very interesting sight, but you don't really have to stare. Staring is rude," Draco's voice came up.

Harry quickly looked away, feeling his blush creeping into his very soul. "I- th-that was..." Harry stammered and failed. "Oh fuck it all. I was just looking at the trousers not the…err, that. Anyway, don't change the topic, where are you going?"

Malfoy only looked at him a little longer then pushed his way through Harry to get out of the room. "To the book-signing, where else?"

Harry's gob smacked face stared at Malfoy's retreating back. He quickly snapped out of his astonishment and went to catch up with him. "But Parkinson said it was due tomorro-"

"I told the organizer not to tell Pansy that the date changed."

"Bloody Slytherins!" Harry muttered.

Draco merely smirked and put on his coat. "Greg is coming with me, no need to worry too much Potter."

Harry swore. It cannot be cancelled now and Harry had no choice anymore. "Okay fine, but I'll come with you, too."

•••••••|•••••••

Flourish and Blotts was definitely not a paradise for Harry. It's crowded with both wizards and books. It's also dusty and smells like something old that made Harry's noise wrinkle in protest.

As it turned out, everybody apparently knew about the book-signing except for Harry. It was proudly pasted on the doors of Flourish and Blotts and was also published in the Prophet. The scene made him remember that time in Second Year when he unfortunately crossed paths with Gilderoy Lockhart.

Many wizards and witches carrying protectively their own copy of "Those of The Other Worlds" and reporters and photographers clutching their cameras and Quick-Quills were present. Harry scowled when he realized how dumb he was to forget that such events meant reporters will be attending as well.

Harry was secretly awed to notice that indeed, Malfoy had many fans, he even saw a witch that looked suspiciously like Hermione's secretary somewhere. He imagined that he might've been living inside a cave when all of this happened, when Malfoy suddenly became a writing diva.

He knew that the man had talents and intelligence that can almost rival Hermione's. He also knew that somehow he became a popular anonymous something with his opinions that were published in the Prophet. But he didn't expect him to be  _this_  famous. Harry felt oddly proud for some unknown reason.

 

He's also not that snappy with other people unlike with Harry. The calm and cold front was still present and his walls were still as hard as the Great Wall of China but he smiles, he talks smoothly and a bit friendly, and he interacts well—even flirt with some of the old ladies. He looked good like that and Harry can't help but stare as Malfoy signed another copy of the first volume of his book.

Malfoy was seated behind a rectangular table while the people were lining up in front of him, filling the shop and making it jam-packed. Goyle and Harry were standing on either side of Malfoy—Harry slouching and pretending to be observing so as not to appear like a bodyguard and instead as Draco's apprentice and Goyle, well, all he did was stare wistfully at the gifts and offerings that Malfoy received from his thoughtful fans.

Harry laughed. "Always hungry, aren't you?"

Malfoy spared him a curious glance and Goyle turned to Harry. "Can't help it."

Harry nodded at the pile of gifts at Malfoy's side which was in front of poor Goyle. "You could open one, I guess. Be sure to give Malfoy some too so that the giver would not punch your gut. But of course, I still have to cast a Poison-revealing Spell."

Goyle beamed and turned to Malfoy. "Can I?"

Malfoy did not look away from the book he's signing but he smiled. "Of course you can. Share some to Potter too. I cannot afford my assistant and apprentice to die in starvation here."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Are you hungry as well? I can cast a Patronus and ask Parkinson to bring food if you want,” he asked him.

"You're concern is highly appreciated, Potter. But sorry, you'll not get a raise. And no thanks, I'm fine with my water and tea here."

"All right," he answered and eyed the cup of tea and water that Flourish and Blotts supplied.

Harry watched as Goyle picked up a black package. He unwrapped it and discovered that it was chocolates inside. Harry was about to say that he would cast a Poison-Revealing Spell when he noticed something odd at the back of the big bar of chocolates.

"Goyle, give me that." Goyle turned a frightened look at him and Harry realized that his voice was tight and stern.

Malfoy glanced at them and Goyle handed the bar. There was something glued on the back. Harry unstuck it and found that it was a blank paper. When he turned it around, he saw it.

A threat.

Harry's mind went on full alert and he scanned the crowd for a suspicious person. He knew it's useless. It's either the stalker already left or he's watching them. He tried to scan the crowd again, but fuck, everyone looked suspicious.

Malfoy, seeming to sense the tension, turned his head. “Is there something wrong?”

Harry contemplated on not telling Malfoy, but before he could decide, Malfoy's eyes widen a fraction and seemed to realize what's happening.

"It's fine. We're fine."

Malfoy calmed a bit and returned to his task, masking a smile for his fan. Harry read the lines.

_Success is a nice thing. But sometimes it is stolen from the right person who deserves it. And instead, it is showered unfairly to the wrong person who's not worth an ounce of it. And it's you Malfoy. You worthless bitch of a Death Eater._

 

_I am everywhere you go Malfoy. You cannot and shall not escape from me._

 

Harry bit his lip and crumpled the paper angrily. How dare he call Malfoy a bitch?!  _Who is this?_  He looked at it again and realized that the paper was not an ordinary one. It's a…a…, Harry tried very hard to remember what it was. His eyes cringed when a sudden flash struck him ad he turned only to find Rita Skeeter and her photographer grinning like mad crocodiles.  _Flash…_  That's it! It's a photo paper.

 

Harry turned the paper and he was once again confronted by a blank white.  _There should be a picture here._  He grabbed his wand and cast Revelio. Slowly, the hidden image appeared. In the image, Malfoy was sitting by a window of what looked like his office and was reading a book. Photo-Malfoy looked up and turned to the camera, clearly having no idea of it, then returned to his book. The picture was surely taken from outside since only the window and Malfoy and a bit of the office the window could offer was seen.

 

"What's that?" came a voice.

Harry looked up and saw intense grey eyes. He swallowed thickly and handed the paper for Malfoy to see. The girl in front of Malfoy waiting for her copy of the book to be signed glanced curiously between them.

"Sorry for the waiting, just an important personal message," Harry lied to the girl who nodded obediently.

Malfoy handed back the paper and smiled at the girl. He continued signing the books but Harry could see the slight trembling of his hands and sharp intake of breath.

"Are you sure you want to continue this?" Harry whispered.

Malfoy looked determined. "Of course."

Then, a sudden shouting came and was followed by more. Harry turned his head to see what's happening and saw the massive bookshelf slowly tumbled down. The said shelf was far across them, at the opposite wall. All the people went running wildly in other directions, pinning those who were in front of the line and the reporters, as well as Malfoy and-

Fuck, Malfoy.

Many people were rushing and bumping Harry as the other shelves followed suit, like a domino. Harry glued his feet to the floor to avoid tumbling and searched for Malfoy. The rectangular table was now pushed against the wall and both Malfoy and Goyle were nowhere to be seen.

Harry quickly dragged his way towards the table that now became far as more people bumped him. He saw the unmistakenly blond hair under the table and immediately called him.

  
"Draco!" Harry shouted against the loud screams around him and extended his hand under the table. It's easier if he will stoop down but it's dangerous when you're in a middle of a crowd that's running for their lives.

He felt a hand clasped his and he swiftly but carefully pulled Malfoy. They were rapidly pushed against the table as soon as Malfoy was able to stand up. Strangers were hitting them, bumping them, and stepping on their feet. Harry encased protective arms around Malfoy and Malfoy clung for his dear life to Harry's shoulders, both boys panting.

"Fuck. Just fuck," Harry swore as he watched Malfoy close his eyes and lean against him. "Are you okay?"

"I can't-…my wand-..." he struggled to reply.

Harry wrapped his left arm tightly around Malfoy and grabbed his wand with the other. He surveyed the situation quickly and Levitated a beam-like thing from around the corner and used it to support the currently falling shelf to stop it from falling. Trying to stop the shelf with a Levitation Spell was useless because he already saw some of the sensible ones tried and failed. It's really weird that the shelves won't react to the spell.

Harry swung both arms more protectively around Malfoy's shoulders and waist when a panicking wizard accidentally elbowed Malfoy hard. Goyle's nowhere to be seen but Harry knew he's fine. Gripping Malfoy harder, Harry Apparated. As the odd whirling started, in the last second he saw a blond bloke standing near the gigantic shelf and looked oddly confused if not calm.

Harry also noted, as everything around him changed and twirled, that the man was bringing two copies of Malfoy's book. One signed and one not.

•••••••|•••••••

"You two just managed to become the Wizarding World's hottest and most controversial couple. Who would've thought?" Pansy happily commented when she read the Daily Prophet.

The front page was the two of them: Picture-Harry wrapping his arms around Picture-Malfoy and vice-versa. How a photographer still managed to take that picture amidst the chaos in Flourish and Blotts yesterday was beyond Harry.

Malfoy sighed dramatically and shook his head. "You must know that it is your fault, Potter. Did you really have to hug me like that?"

Harry gathered all his willpower not to blush and attempted to reason out. Thankfully, Parkinson rescued him. "But Draco, darling, did you really have to cling on Potter like that?"

Malfoy's eyebrow arched, then he scowled, then he slowly smirked. "Because Pansy sweetheart, Potter here is my night and shining armor. And leave it to the Wizarding World to twist their knickers on that."

"I do remember Malfoy saying that my services are only appropriate for dying kneazles," Harry supplied unnecessarily.

Malfoy glared at him, grey eyes boring onto his.

After they Apparated back that day, Parkinson immediately went to Floo their Healer because Malfoy got bruises and scratches everywhere and his lower back and ribs were aching.

With the help of rest, tea, and mocking Harry, he quickly recovered. And that's very evident by the fact that a sick person can't glare like that.

In the meantime, they were seated on comfortable armchairs surrounding the fireplace of Malfoy's office and drinking delicious tea from Edinburgh.

"I won't be surprised if tomorrow, the front page will talk nothing but Potter and I getting married," Draco said with mixed disdain and amusement.

"And then the next day, it would be about you two having a child," Parkinson added.

"But of course, it would be about Malfoy carrying the baby," Harry inserted unnecessarily again.

"Why me?!" Draco wailed with wide eyes.

"Just think what will happen to the Wizarding World if they will discover that their savior is pregnant. That would be scary," Pansy said with a theatrical shudder.

Malfoy huffed indignantly. "Just think what my father will do if he found out that his only son is pregnant. That's the really scary." Parkinson and Harry both nodded seriously at the thought. "Especially that the father or other father is him," he added and pointed a finger at Harry.

 

All three went silent as they contemplated the possibilities of Lucius' actions. And then, they all laughed helplessly.

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

Harry finished piling up the three plates with different varieties of biscuits and cups of hot chocolate were already ready. Just some marshmallows and whipped cream and…there you go. He cast a Warming Charm, placed the cups and plates on the tray and levitated it. 

 

"Uncle Harry!" squeaked Teddy when he entered the kitchen.

 

"Hey there! Aren't you early?"

 

"Wow, are those hot chocolates and biscuits?" Teddy's eyes went wide in awe when he saw the floating tray behind Harry. 

 

Harry laughed and ruffled Teddy's hair. "How about we call your Cousin Draco first. He's in the library."

 

Teddy went running, in a mission to disturb Malfoy in his research. Harry shook his head in adoration to the little brat and proceeded in his own mission to bring the delicacies to Teddy's room.

 

The three of them ended up lying on their stomachs and concentrating on the puzzle that Malfoy gave Teddy some minutes later. And after one of the hardest challenges in Harry's life that can easily rival Voldemort's haunting, Teddy went whooping around and mimicking the kneazle dance when the glow-in-the-dark puzzle finally glowed in completion.

 

After the dancing and yelling ceased, they decided to take a break and eat the biscuits and hot chocolate proudly made by Harry. And then, some biscuits, more biscuits,even more biscuits, and seven cups of hot chocolate—two by Harry and Malfoy and three by Teddy—later, their little monster was already sleeping soundly and tucked under his covers.

 

"The kneazle looks weird," Harry commented as he and Malfoy sat on the floor with legs drawn to their chest, leaning on the opposite wall from Teddy's bed.

 

"It's because you grew up in a Muggle World. Although, I must admit that it does look weird. Especially with that dancing routine."

 

They both agreed and smiled at the kneazle who's now shaking its hips gamely. Harry took note Malfoy's reference to the 'Muggle World'. Years earlier, he would've spoken those words spitefully and may even say a rude version of it such as 'Mud bloods'. But now, he had said it with no venom or care at all. He wondered how much change took place in this man's life and being. And he also wondered if ending up as a writer and the process up to that title, was the turning point in what changed Malfoy’s views.

 

"How did you become a writer?" Harry blurted out suddenly. 

 

Malfoy, who seemed surprised at the sudden change of topic and of Harry's sudden bluntness, stared at him. "Pardon, but I was not informed that our relationship has levelled up to a degree of answering such…personal questions."

 

Harry shrugged. "You don't really have to answer it you know. But…" Harry decided to change tactic, "we're going to have to bear each other for awhile longer so I guess it will be better to…start a truce of friendship. Or something," Harry finished, looking away as he did so.

 

The man beside him seemed to ponder on the given suggestion. Then, after a long wait, he turned to Harry and nodded firmly. "Fine, but I'm doing this mostly for Teddy," he said, gesturing to the sleeping boy across them.

 

"Okay. I think the first thing to do is for you to call me Harry. Contrary to the popular belief, doing so would not cause the end of the world."

 

Malfoy smirked haughtily. "And I think it would be fair for you to call me Draco, Harry."

 

Harry mulled over to the weird sensation of hearing his name form Mal- Draco. It's odd, but at the same time, felt really nice. "So Draco, since we're friends now, would you mind answering my question?" Harry tried again.

 

Draco sighed in surrender. "You're really not going to give up on this, are you?" Draco raked his hand through his blond hair. "All right, but let's do it this way. You ask, I ask. Let's take turns. One question at a time."

 

"Fair deal."

 

Harry watched as Draco leaned his head on the wall and unconsciously licked his lips when he saw the exposed pale skin of Draco's neck. Harry wasn’t really sure but it seemed like teasing him and mocking him to lick those- "It was really not in my plan," Draco started, not aware of Harry's very inappropriate thoughts. "Never was, actually. It was somehow a mixture of boredom, luck and desperation. As you know, we were clinging at the verge of nothing after the war. No one wanted a Death Eater so the only job I got was being a clerk in a weird dingy cauldrons shop that houses more dead cats than cauldrons. I was always bored so I started to send anonymous articles to the Prophet. It went well and they tried to offer me a job. That's what you call luck.

 

"Then, here enters desperation. I barely had anything and it's a shot to the moon if I ever ate anything decent. I grudge the Prophet, but I figured out that it was the last hook I could cling on to. So I accepted the job. And the rest was history."

 

Harry closed his eyes. He didn't know it was that bad. If only he- "It's my turn now," Draco announced.

 

"Ask away."

 

"It's not a mystery why you joined the Aurors. But, what the real mystery is, is why you resigned," grey eyes glinted in the dim light of the Teddy's room.

 

"You sound like a reporter."

 

Draco smirked. "Technically, I am."

 

Harry picked at the hem of his trousers and scowled. "You'd be happy to know that I quit partly because of that exposé that you wrote. Can't believe how dirty the supposedly guards of justice can be." He sighed and Draco's eyebrows went up and away, surprised that he made quite an impact in Harry's life by that story. "Anyway, I was already musing about the idea of doing so, even before that article of yours was published. I'm tired of it, tired of being everyone's puppet. I like being and Auror but it's not exactly what I wanted."

 

"Then what do you want?"

 

"I don't know. That's why I wanted to quit because I want to find out what I really wanted, what's my purpose, what makes me happy."

 

"I've always known you're dramatic deep inside, Potter," Draco mocked.

 

"Harry. And shut up you, I'm still having a moment." There was a pause. "You're article did it, you know. Before it, I was still unsure, but the moment I laid eyes on that 'Underground Bargains; Aurors In The Front Line', I had made my decision. And look at me now, ended up guarding an insufferable wanker and chasing a lunatic criminal. Indeed, not-very-much-Auror-job this is."

 

Surprisingly, Draco laughed. "You just have to accept that it's your destiny, Po- Harry."

 

Harry glared at him. "My next question is kind of related with the first. When you already managed to get to your feet again, why did you stay in your job? I mean, you said you never really wanted it. You could've just continued sending bits of articles to the Prophet but pursue a different career."

 

Draco smiled. It was warm and made Harry felt butterflies in his stomach.

 

"I learned to fall in love with it. It's enjoying and not so stressful, except for deadlines of course. But you'll get to work anywhere anytime you want. No need to wake up early and drag yourself to shower."

 

"Truth is, those factors were also some of the reasons why I quit the Aurors."

 

 They both laughed at Harry's confession. But then, Draco's face became serious.

 

"It's my turn again," he said. "I've been wondering about this a long time now. He won't tell me, but I know you will. Remember at the trial, when you said that Father helped in capturing Death Eaters? What help was that?"

 

Harry promised not to tell anybody, but the earnest in Draco's eyes wrapped a dangerous cord around his heart and threatened to stop its beating. "Don't tell anyone about this and don't ever mention this to your father. In the midst of the war, your father was keeping a Pensieve of his memories. When the Dark Side was already in the verge of downfall, he gave it all to me. It contained everything Draco, everything."

 

He heard Draco inhale sharply. His eyes were wide and filled with fear, probably knowing that Harry had seen everything, including his share. "That's how the other Death Eaters were captured and how you and your mother escaped Azkaban. And how the 25 year sentence of your father became 5 years. Only a few trusted Aurors, Kingsley, and I know about this."

 

Harry bit his lips hard, not knowing if what he did was for the better or for the worse. "Are you alright?"

 

Draco nodded slowly and gulped. "And to think, I always laugh at Pansy whenever she says that everybody has a soft spot, even Lucius." Draco laughed, but his voice was hoarse. 

 

"Err…speaking of Pansy, I always thought you two were an item back at Hogwarts. What happened?" Harry asked, trying to stir the atmosphere.

 

When Draco's arched eyebrow was back with a vengeance, Harry knew he succeeded.

 

"And what kind of productive thing would answering that question bear?"

 

"It's my turn so I can ask anything I want," Harry defended. 

 

"Well, contrary to popular belief, we were never an 'item'—as you call it. She's just a natural flirt. We grew up together and our friendship is the kind of which it's a shit, but we will never trade it for anything. And a trivia for you, we actually planned before that we'll marry and have children, then after all that, we will separate and she can be as bitchy as she can get while I go gay all the way."

 

Harry was half-surprised and half-amused. "About the gay thing, how long have you-"

 

"Harry, it's my turn to ask now,” Draco interrupted.

 

"Err, of course. Sorry. Go ahead."

 

"So…" Draco's smirk suggested that it will be a dangerous question. "Allow me to use your choice of word from your previous question regarding my relationship with Pansy. The Weaslette, I always thought you two were an item back a Hogwarts. What happened?"

 

 Harry groaned. Draco did not just use every word he said, he also bloody copied his tone. The git. "Do you really have to do this to me? I thought we were friends," Harry begged.

 

"You were the one who said that our friendship should start like this."

 

"Not like this," Harry wailed.

 

"Answer right away, lover boy."

 

The smirk on Draco's face was so taunting that it made him want to kiss that smirk out of the git's face and-…what the fuck was that? Did he just thought about kissing Draco Malfoy? More to the point, did he just dream of licking the other man's neck awhile ago? Harry James Potter, what have you been eating for breakfast?!

 

Harry tried to concentrate. "After the war and everything, we tried to build our relationship again. Weeks after, she broke up with me saying that it won't work out anymore and that it's 'not the same as before'. She complained that I wasn’t the person she thought, and wanted me to be. Accepted too much help in the war, wasn’t the Hero enough for her liking and that sort of thing. The problem with Ginny was that she was an admirer along with the others, she grew up with the stories of my family being destroyed before I even knew it happened, which I was only told when I was eleven by the way. She never wanted me for Harry. Only Harry Potter and the Scar.’’

 

Draco looked amused, but Harry saw the flash of sympathy in his eyes before he masked it.  "It must be a feat for a woman to break the heart of the Wonder Boy."

 

Harry wanted to strangle him so bad but he was also grateful for not coddling him. Also he wanted to run his hands so badly down his che- Fuck, there he goes again. "Shut up. Anyway, about the…err…queer thing. How long have you been gay?"

 

Draco shook his head in amusement. "You're too curious for your own good, Harry."

 

"So I was told. Just answer the question."

 

"I've known ever since fourth year. It was not a secret. All of my dorm mates knew and all other people whose keen enough to observe."

 

"But how did you know that you actually prefer boys? And err, did you already experience having a boyfriend?" Harry shut his mouth immediately when he realized that he just asked the most senseless of all questions and that it's not his turn anymore. He hoped that Draco was not cross. 

 

 And he's not. Because the moment Harry finished the nonsensical enquiries, Draco laughed endlessly until tears started to fill his eyes. "Are you going to ask about my intense gay sex experiences as well?" he teased.

 

Harry blushed crimson red. "I-err…"

 

"And Harry, do you realize that you've already asked so many questions?" Draco smirked.

 

"I d-didn't mean to er…"

 

"Consider this my peace offering for my pratness back in school," Draco said, referring to answering the 'extra' questions. "The discovery of my preferences was a long story. I guess I already knew from the start but just chose to ignore it until a time came that whenever I see this certain boy, I just want to shag him senseless. And since then, there's no point of denying it. It's just useless. And for the boyfriend thing, just some flings here and there. Nothing serious." He turned to Harry and raised his eyebrow. "Are you satisfied now?"

 

Harry nodded. "But why haven't you settled with a serious relationship?" he asked before he can stop himself.

 

In he's surprise, Draco turned to him and smiled, but his eyes are full of sadness. "Too many a question is not healthy for you Harry."

 

Harry wanted to smack his own face for causing such sadness in this man's eyes. He spread his legs and stretched his arms. "Sorry. It's your turn now."

 

The sad eyes abruptly changed into a narrow and suspecting one. "You discovered that I'm queer because you asked about Thomas. May I ask what this fascination for Thomas is all about?"

 

With both heads turned to the other, they were now face to face. Harry noticed just how pale and delicate Draco was. Every sharp edge had been softened through the years and in a closer look, they are smooth and fragile and just oh so touchable…

 

Harry desperately pushed the thought aside and concentrated on the conversation. His insides filled with horror when he came to understand the question. "It's not at all—and I repeat—not at all fascination! I merely asked one time."

 

Draco snickered deviously. "I know. But you to be very curious about him??"

 

"He's just weird for me, that's all." Draco's smirk made Harry feel that he’s missing something here.

 

"What's weird, he's actions or the way he treats you?" Draco asked knowingly.

 

"Both."

 

"You've never changed, did you? Just how long did it take for you to realize that the Weasley bitc-" Harry glared at the 'bitc' and Draco rolled his eyes. "I mean Ginevra Weasley, was head-over-heels for you?"

 

Harry squirmed at the mention of Ginny again. "We kind of had something around fifth year. But like I said, she didn’t want me for me."

 

"Oh look, it turns out you're worse than I thought. That girl definitely looked like she's going to jump off a building if you two would not end up together. And it was second year when I realized that."

 

It surprised Harry that the git actually cared—or at least observed—about his love life. He put that thought aside for future purposes. "What do you really want to say?"

 

"Thomas is no different. He likes you, Harry. And to be sure that the message gets across: he has a crush on you, fancies you, wanks over your pictures, etc."

 

Harry was speechless. He remembered how the guy gets too close whenever they talk or how he always taps Harry's arm or hands for no reason at all. Sometimes, he even terrifyingly blinks his eyes too much and travels his hands to Harry's chest without his permission.

 

"But how did you know?"

 

"Anyone with two healthy eyes can, Harry."

 

A movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Teddy sleepily sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Uncle Harry? Cousin Draco?" 

 

"Yes, Teddy?" 

 

The little boy smiled lazily. "Can we play with my toy plane now?"

 

"Of course." Draco smiled brightly at his cousin and stood up.

 

Harry stared at the blond. He's tall and lean, with intricate lines and angel-carved figure. When he smiles like that, his full lower lip and fine upper lip tugs into a thin line that made Harry want to bite his own. He's beautiful. Very. All grey eyes and pale skin. 

 

At that very moment, Harry knew he's utterly fucked.

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

Days and weeks passed and the once-so-peevish relationship between the two of them developed into what Draco called as 'just-a-bit-friendly-terms'. The problem was the closer they become, the harder it was for Harry to drag his eyes away from Draco. And it's not because of the bodyguard job, it's because of an entirely different thing.

 

He realized later on that day when he and Draco had the 'talk', he had forgotten to ask who the boy was that made Draco realize his 'preferences'. Harry's second nature of Auror analyzing skills kicked in that day. He spent the whole day trying to figure out who the boy was. He figured out that he's a schoolmate since Draco said fourth year and never mentioned summer or Christmas vacation.

 

Unfortunately, his thoughts led him to more unhelpful ones like 'did Draco managed to get it on with that 'boy'?', 'What does he look like when he's shagging another man?', 'Is Draco good at kissing?', 'What could be his wanking materials?', and the most scandalous 'what does it feel like being his boyfriend or seeing him naked?'. Those thoughts were absurd. And of course, Harry would not let this silly little infatuation for his client/former enemy affect his job.

 

Because of all that, Harry's getting suspicious with his own sexuality. It also made Harry wonder whether staring at another man's—particularly Draco's—arse meant that he's gay. His first kiss was a girl. His first proper relationship was with a girl. His first making out session was with a girl and his first time was with a bloody girl. He also reasoned that Draco was the first and only guy he got attracted to. And maybe the last. If he's not really attracted generally to all males but only to a certain one, does that still make him gay? Harry can't believe that he's having a major self-crisis now that he's already 25. Oh for fuck's sake.

 

 

Nevertheless, he's relationship with Draco was indeed getting better. Harry usually stays at Draco's office or in the kitchens during the mornings. The afternoons meant that he will be checking the wards and will be having a walk on the Manor grounds. Evenings were dinner with Pansy, Thomas and the Malfoys. And sometimes, walking with Draco on the grounds if he claimed to be needing fresh air. The routine will only be interrupted by Teddy's visits, whenever Draco needed to go outside for a meeting or something, or if the two of them decided to have lunch outside.

 

Like now.

 

"Draco, are you hungry?" Harry really enjoyed disturbing Draco from his work.

 

Draco scowled with feeling. "Yes I am. But I still need to bloody finish this so stop talking about food, Potter."

 

Draco developed this habit of calling Harry in last name basis again if he's irritated, angry, seething, hungry, or all at once.

 

"It's nearly lunch. Pansy said something about Sugar Dash-"

 

"Sugar Rush, Potter. Please don't murder the name of my favorite eatery."

 

"I'll try." Harry laughed. "Hey, my treat."

 

At once, Draco looked up and examined Harry speculatively. He bit his lower lip while considering his offer. Harry looked away before he can't stop himself from looking at Draco's red lips.

 

"Your proposal is accepted," Draco decided, standing up from his position behind his desk. "Though I must warn you, I am not held responsible for any highly outrageously expensive food my eyes and mouth might reach."

 

"Duly noted, Mr. Malfoy. Shall we leave now and start harassing my Gringotts vault?"

 

Draco rolled his eyes and walked passed him. "Pansy," he heard Draco say, "Harry here just asked me out on a date. If anyone looks for me, tell them I'm out debauching their savior."

 

Pansy snickered. "Shall I inform the Prophet now?"

 

"Don't you dare if you don't want to be jobless like Harry here."

 

"Hey!" Harry protested. "Then what am I doing guarding you around? Is this not a job? 

 

Draco stuck his tongue out at Harry and soon, they are waving their goodbye at Pansy. Before they can even reach the door, it opened and admitted Thomas.

 

"Pansy, you need to give this to Draco," the caramel-haired guy said as he scanned the parchments he's holding, apparently still unaware of Harry and Draco's presence. "You also need to- oh, Harry."

 

Harry cringed inwardly. _Here we go again._  "Hey Thomas."

 

The other guy smiled amorously at him. He stepped closer to Harry—as he irritatingly usually does—and looked at him from head to toe. "What are you doing here?"

 

Harry stepped backward as subtly as he can. "I'm going to take Draco out for lunch. You know, bonding and hanging out with friends whenever possible."

 

Friends. He just referred to Draco as friend. And they seem were. He just hoped that Draco won't mock him to death just because of this.

 

Thomas looked at Draco as if had only noticed the blond now and nodded at him. He then turned to Harry again. "I see," he said with pursed lips. Harry wondered what that was about.

 

"Of course, whenever possible…" Thomas said faintly as his eyes were drawn to somewhere around Harry neck. He followed the direction of Thomas' gaze and realized that the man was staring at the rumpled collar of his button up shirt.

 

It's not that he's an untidy person, he just can't bother with creased lines when an insane nose less Dark Lord is after you or when a mad melodramatic killer is lurking around. 

 

Harry stood frozen as Thomas lifted his hands and reached for Harry's collar, seeming to straighten it up. But before his fingers could even lay a skin on his collar, Draco spoke up. "What are those parchments all about?"

 

Thomas quickly withdrew his hands and stepped back. He gave Draco a steady gaze. "Those are the last of your manuscripts. You said I were to return them to you as soon as I can."

 

Draco nodded stiffly and walked over to Thomas to get the parchments. His face did not give away anything but his rigid stance and cold voice made Harry wonder if the two got into a fight that he wasn't aware of.

 

Eventually, Draco smiled. It's was tight but real. "Thank you for all your help, Thomas. You can have the rest of the day off if you want."

 

Harry was so engrossed with looking at how striking Draco looked in that new coat of his that he didn't realize Draco was already stomping his feet in impatience.

 

"What are you waiting for, Potter? We don't have the whole day and I do not plan to die in starvation inside my own office."

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

Harry rubbed his gloved hands together as winter began to make known of its self. He's still waiting for Draco to get his new scarf from his room. The grounds of Manor is not so warm-welcoming these days. 

 

It looked a bit like summer, but the chilly dry wind broke whatever thoughts of summer anyone can conjure. December and Christmas was fast approaching, and Harry still had no idea how to spent it this year.

 

"Mr. Potter," Narcissa called. Harry turned to her and smiled.

 

She's wearing immaculate purple winter robes, and behind her, Lucius was eyeing Harry warily.

 

"Good noon Mrs. Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy."

 

"What are you doing outside in this cold weather?"

 

"Err…I'm taking Draco out for lunch…" Harry squirmed. He will never be comfortable under Lucius and Narcissa's gaze in all his life.

 

"I see," she conceded. "Little Teddy said he left his puzzle here, maybe you could drop it by to their house."

 

"Actually…"

 

"We already planned to Floo there later, Mother," Draco supplied. Harry turned around and saw Draco, face half-hidden under the white and green scarf.

 

They said formal goodbyes to the senior Malfoys and Apparated. The weather was freezing cold but it was still nice to walk throughout the crowded pavements of Diagon Alley. Pansy warned him that Sugar Dash or Rush whatever was a place where diabetes is a friend. But that's not really a surprise, even back at Hogwarts, he knew that Draco loves sweets in fierce amounts. Not that he'd been staring at the git ever since schooldays. 

 

The restaurant was both fancy and comfortable. The interior was elegant but the atmosphere's welcoming. Draco chose a table beside the glass windows. Harry observed that Draco always chooses tables near glass windows.

 

"You seem to love glass windows," Harry blurted out, curiosity getting the best of him.

 

"Glass windows mean people-watching Harry, watching people and looking at their painfully unfashionable outfits and eye-cringing ugly faces as they pass by is my favorite past time.”

 

Harry thought as the waitress approached them that if in another universe where he and Draco do not know each other, what would've the guy thought about him if he happened to pass by his glass window one morning.

 

"What are your orders, sirs?"

 

"Harry," Draco leaned forward and looked mock-serious, "you need to be baptized."

 

Harry's eyebrows went up at the words. "Just what does that mean?"

 

"I'll have Cannelloni Special and a large order of Roasted Beef with Lemon Sauce for the two of us. Then, Trifle and Mud Pie Sundae."

 

"Err, I'll just have the Spaghetti Bolognese. And umm…"

 

"And one of each dessert for him please," Draco finished.

 

Harry's eyes went wide. “One of each? Are you insane?"

 

"I did say you need to be baptized."

 

"You're not just harassing my vaults, Draco, my stomach as well."

 

The food was excellent and the Roasted Beef was out of this world. When Draco says finest, it really is the finest. The desserts, although only small in slices and bowls, were so freaking many that Harry thought it would take forever to finish it all.

 

"Anyway, you looked cross with Thomas, did something happen?"

 

Draco wiped clean the sauce of his pasta with the bread. "I did?"

 

"Don't pretend innocence, you prick."

 

Draco finished his bread and proceeded to licking and sucking the strayed cream sauce from his fingers. Harry swallowed thickly and looked away.

 

"I don't recall doing such accusations Potter. By the way, you said you wanted to tell me something?"

 

"Yeah…" Harry dared to look up and found Draco licking his lips. Fuck. "Hermione and Ron are coming tonight to discuss the case."

 

Draco froze from wiping his fingers with the napkin. "Merlin's cranberries Potter! Why did you just tell me?!"

 

He was exaggerating again. Harry sighed and looked at Draco. "What do the cranberries have to do with this? And more importantly, with Merlin?" Harry asked, amused with why Draco used the innocent fruit as a swear word.

 

Draco shrugged. "I hate them. And don't you dare change the topic, Potter."

 

"What's the big deal? It's not like the world would burst into flames if-"

 

"Oh yes it will. Mother and Father, Potter. They will be joining the dinner tonight and neither of them knows that your friends are coming. How about you? Did you fucking inform them that they will be joining Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy?" 

 

"Fuck, I didn't think of that." Right, very bloody right. Senior Malfoys and newly-wed Weasleys will never be the best mixture in the world. 

 

"Of course you didn't. If you must know, with that forgetfulness of yours, the fact that you're very good at your job is still a big mystery for the universe, Potter."

 

"Fine, it's my fault," Harry said sulkily. "You were busy and I forgot to tell you all right? Stop glaring at me like that or I'll lose my appetite."

 

Draco's face softened and he sighed in exasperation. "We'll find a way later. Let's eat first."

 

Harry started to dig in to his chocolate fudge. He checked at Draco and saw him staring at his Mud Pie greedily. The blond scooped a portion and moaned in satisfaction. Harry looked away in what it seemed like the tenth time now. He tried hardly to concentrate on his food but another moan from Draco was heard and automatically went straight to Harry's groin. For the love of-

 

"I've been wondering," Harry started, hoping that striking a conversation would stop Draco from…err, emitting those disturbing noises, "remember when you told me about that boy who made you realize…things. Who was he?"

 

"And why do you want to know?"

 

"I wanted to ask you that time when we were 'talking', but I forgot. I always forget the important things." Harry wrinkled up his nose, remembering all those times when his forgetfulness attacked. Like today.

 

"Mmm, but if I refuse to tell you?"

 

"Was it Blaise Zabini?" Harry enquired blatantly. 

 

Draco's eyebrows dramatically went lost behind his fringe as it flew up in mild surprise. "What made you think that Blaise is the man of my dreams, Harry?"

 

"Err, I don't know really. No idea."

 

"For the betterment of the world and the universe Potter, Blaise is as straight as a stirring rod. He just flirts with everyone ad everything in the world but I assure you that he prefers melons over sausages."

 

Harry blushed. He didn't exactly planned on discussing Zabini's sex life.

 

"Then who was it?"

 

Draco gave him a long look that Harry could not decipher. "Let's just say that it's Draco Malfoy's silly little puppy love."

 

“That sounds so Hufflepuffly," he teased.

 

"Oh, I'm so proud," Draco deadpanned.

 

Harry chuckled and concentrated on the matter at hand. "I'm pretty sure he's one of our schoolmates. And don't you dare say I'm wrong, I've not been an Auror for long Draco."

 

Draco proceeded to mess up with his Trifle. "I know. Unfortunately for you, I would've answered that if only you remembered asking it last time."

 

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "I feel like I'm missing something here."

 

"Everybody feels like they are missing something on everything, Harry."

 

"I hate you."

 

"Same here," Draco retorted with that smirk of his. "Try that," he pointed at a dessert with what looked like a scoop of vanilla ice cream and tiny brown somethings topped on it. He also observed that there were weird white flat oval-shaped somethings that he had no idea what they were at all. Even though the only thing he recognized was the ice cream and chocolate syrup, it still looked delicious nevertheless. "It's one of my favorites, Mud Pie Sundae."

 

He nodded and set the small white bowl in front of him. Licking his bottom lip, he scooped a portion. The vanilla ice cream slowly melted on his tongue and mingled with the tiny chocolate brown somethings that turned out to be crushed chocolate biscuits. The chocolate syrup added the kick and the 'weird white oval-shaped' were actually nuts. Harry closed his eyes and moaned happily. He's so amazed that he even unashamedly licked the chocolate syrup that strayed on the spoon's stem.

 

When he looked up, he saw Draco staring at him. He's not sure if he had imagined it but Draco's eyes were focused on his lips before his eyes met his. "What?" he asked self-consciously.

 

"You have some ice cream on the corner of your lips," he said.

 

"Oh," Harry quickly licked it off, not caring about the napkins, and continued to his journey of Mud Pie Heaven.

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

They walked through the grounds of Manor silently, the gentle breeze kept swaying Draco's hair but never succeeded in doing much more. The afternoon light illuminated his sharp edges and exhibited the blonde’s smooth pale skin and soft lashes. He also admired his lips, red from the cold. But Harry's favorite were the eyes, grey eyes, strikingly silver but softly shaded. The man was indeed too handsome for his own good. 

 

Harry had already reluctantly admitted some time ago that he has a crush on him, since denying slowly became less of an option the more time he spends with him.

 

He loves the playful teasing and witty remarks from Draco. Now that the harsh tone and infuriating venom had been lost, every conversation and good-natured bantering with him became funny and exciting. He also loves the fact that they share interest more than what Harry from months ago would believe. Draco's also not the demanding type of person, when it comes to interactions. He lets Harry say everything his heart can and only chooses some epic moments to give his remarks. He lets Harry go about his office or even stay there all day.

 

He likes it whenever he's being smug. He likes it whenever he's being sulky. And he likes it whenever he's being melodramatic.

 

And he didn't have any idea if that made him gay.

 

"I have a brilliant idea," Draco spoke suddenly as they were now half way to the Manor. 

 

Harry turned to him with his eyebrows drawn up, blocking his very inappropriate thoughts for now.

 

"What if we make Granger and Weasley drink Polyjuice so that Father would not recognize them."

 

"Whose hair?"

 

Draco smirked at him.”I remember having kept some of Aunt Bellatrix' and Uncle Rudolpho's strands before."

 

"You're joking," Harry said with wide eyes.

 

"Just imagine the face of Father when he sees them," he said triumphantly.

 

Harry shook his head fondly. "With the way Ron eats, no Polyjuice could disguise him, you know."

 

The man beside him scowled and huffed. "Fine. But what if…” grey eyes went wide as ideas came to him, "What if we cast Silencing Charms to Weasley and Father while we eat dinner. Granger and Mother won't be a problem since their kind are those who argue inside their complicated minds," Draco suggested while twirling his fingers beside his head to indicate the 'complicated minds'.

 

This time, Harry laughed heartily. "That's good if you would be prepared for the curses, hexes and jinx that will be cast on your way by Ron and Lucius. And let's not forget the mother-hen nagging of Narcissa and death glare of Hermione."

 

"I don't have a problem with that matter," Draco stopped in front of Harry to halt him from his tracks and grinned wildly at him. "I have a bodyguard, remember?"

 

Harry stifled a laugh and tried hard to look emotionless. "I thought my job was to protect you from your stalkers, not your family. And also, I think I'm scheduled to check the wards in that time. So I won't be present. Good luck then."

 

Harry received a glare. 

 

Draco put his hands on his hips and leaned forward. "Do you, Harry James Potter, realize how appalling your treatment to me is? I shall write a letter saying that if ever I died because of ear-depression in courtesy of Mrs. Weasley nee Granger's or Mother's nagging, it shall be your fault."

 

"I'm so scared that my knees are crumpling," Harry deadpanned, bumping Draco's shoulders as he walked pass the man. 

 

"I still have a Plan C," Draco told him once he managed to catch up with him.

 

"I can't wait to hear."

 

He ignored Harry's mocking and continued. "I could order some Benevolence Potion and spike their soup later."

 

That made Harry stop on his tracks. He turned to Draco with a questioning eyebrow. "Benevolence Potion?"

 

The other man nodded smugly. "Makes a person say nice things and do good deeds to others, with or without their consent."

 

"I see, but it will still not cross out the fact that you might grow an eleventh finger or get your hair ginger to the next week once they find out your doing."

 

Draco's eyes went wide in horror, maybe because of the thought of having his hair ginger. "I think I better behave."

 

"Indeed, Draco, indeed. Anyway," Harry resumed his walking, "where did these ridiculous ideas come from?"

 

The blond halted, narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms, and huffed. "They're not ridiculous, they're genius."

 

"Oh I don't know, Draco," Harry teased.

 

He huffed louder and walked passed Harry, stomping his way to the front steps of Malfoy Manor.

 

Oh not again. He's sulking, and a sulking Draco meant silent treatment for the next hour or so. But he doesn't really have a problem with that, he would quickly come around once Harry made him his favorite toad-in-a-hole. Sometimes, Harry even suspects that the prat is doing it in purpose so that Harry will cook for him.

 

Determined and energized with the idea of cooking for Draco, he quickened up his pace. When he turned to the last corner, he saw a familiar blond guy. The guy just went out of the Manor and was walking towards Harry's direction. He hadn't noticed Harry as he was busy scanning the parchments he's clutching. He really looked familiar, oddly so.

 

When they passed each other, an abrupt memory of the suspicious guy he saw in Draco's book-signing before he was pulled by Apparition came into his mind.

 

It's him.

 

Like a lightning bolt, Harry span around to see the man's face clearly but he already rounded the corner. He was about to do a sudden pursuit when Pansy called out for him from the door of the Manor.

 

 _Why is he_ here _?,_ he thought as he approached Pansy.

 

"You look serious, did something happen?"

 

"That blond man, who is he?" Harry blurted out, knowing that fooling around won't help. 

 

"You mean Williams? Why?"

 

"Williams? Why is he here?"

 

"Is this an interrogation or something?"

 

"Pansy," Harry complained.

 

"Fine fine. Name's Jacob Williams, Dublin guy. He's the secretary of Thomas. If you're wondering why you just saw him, it's because he doesn't really have an official work place and therefore does not really come here as often. He's more of a researcher and delivery man than a secretary actually."

 

"So he doesn’t have an office here like you?"

 

"Nope,"

 

"How long?" Harry heard himself say.

 

"Pardon?"

 

"Err, I mean how long has he been working for Thomas?"

 

"4 or 3 and a half years? Maybe 5? I don't know. But wait, fucking tell me why you're asking me these or I'll tell Draco that you've got a crush on his personal editor's secretary."

 

"Of course not! He just looked familiar, that's all."

 

Pansy's coy expression made Harry shudder and he swiftly made his escape.

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

The dreaded dinner turned out to be not-so-bad. It was silent and awkward but better than expected nevertheless.

 

Hermione, as usual, fussed over him the entire time of the visit. Harry could now see the future Molly Weasley of the family. She enquired about Draco's treatment to him and there was even a time when she almost, almost, asked Harry if there's something between them. Harry knew that even if he chose to keep his feelings as a secret, Hermione will still see through him. She always does.

 

He also had a serious talk with Ron. He informed him about his suspicions on Jacob Williams and requested that the man be followed discreetly, so as to monitor his activities. They also discussed about the case and Harry was told that there was no magical trace or any physical prints on the threats. The good news was that they had affirmed that indeed, only one person is behind these. 

 

Before they left, Hermione gave some food and practical things that Harry can use whilst away from his house. Ron gave him the 'talk' regarding his date in which Harry wisely and carefully shared his own reason for declining to go on another one—one of which is his 'very busy job' as Draco's bodyguard. They promised more visits and promised a lunch in the Burrow once everything's already okay with Draco's case, then left.

 

Harry turned to his present task at hand, Draco's toad-in-a-hole. The whole while of their dinner, Draco had not spoken to him—as everyone had not spoken at all—and he had also been busy with Ron and Hermione to assure himself if Draco was cross or not.

 

Malfoy Manor kitchen is now a very familiar and homely place for Harry. He's glad that the kitchen of the house elves was separate, or else he'll be fussed about all the time. Harry really prefers cooking for himself rather than letting the elf do so. And he's more than happy that Draco enjoys his little hobby as well—though all he does is taste Harry's cooking then eat it all. According to him, "You can definitely bloody conquer the world with this. Oh sorry I forgot, you already did, Mr. Vanquisher-of-the-Dark-Lord."

 

Tray of salvaged pork hovering behind him, Harry made his way to Draco's office. When he arrived, he found him scribbling something on a parchment. Noticing his presence, he looked up and eyed Harry evenly.

 

"Hungry?" Harry offered. 

 

Draco's gaze turned to the tray Levitated behind Harry and his face lit up just as quickly as it was gone. Harry placed the food on the top of his desk and raised an eyebrow at Draco. This thing was like a sacred tradition already for Harry. Draco would get all moody and silent, Harry would cook for him, he would accept and eat it, and then the grumbling marathon from the blond shall begin.

 

Harry conjured a seat next to Draco's desk, preparing his courageous ears for the inevitable that would come sooner.

 

The man of Harry's wet dreams gingerly picked one. "You're so mean. Very mean, Potter. You never care for my feelings," he stated crossly—and purposely theatrical Draco-style— and devoured the coated sausage.

 

"You never take me seriously. Only laugh at my ideas." Another sausage.

 

"You always say I'm brilliant but behind my back you think I'm ridiculous." Another innocent sausage.

 

Harry sighed quietly. He knew that Draco didn't really think of him as any of those accusations. Harry reckoned that he's just being dramatic as usual for the sake of tradition, their tradition.

 

"But what can I do? My ideas are indeed absurd, useless, and nonsensical." 

 

Harry would've murdered anyone who'd say that to Draco, but then he painfully remembered that the charges were directed to him. 

 

3 plates later, Draco was sighing contentedly. "I'm done," he declared. These moments made Harry wonder how this man can manage to eat so many but not grow an extra fat or two.

 

Harry smiled up at him and noticed some stray crumbs on the corner of his lips. Impulsively, he reached out to wipe away the offending crumbs. When he realized what he's done, he froze and slowly, bravely looked at Draco's face to see his reaction. Draco was staring wide-eyed at him. Harry quickly withdrew his hand and smiled sheepishly at him, hoping that the other man paid no care to the intimateness of the action. Deciding from the flushed face of Draco, it was no use hoping.

 

They sat in silence and looked everywhere except at each other. Draco was the first one to regain composure. 

 

"I expect that you hear about my claims, Potter."

 

"Still thinking about considering it."

 

Draco scowled at him and he went back to his work. Harry sat back and grabbed the latest issue of the Quidditch Quarterly that's lying on the corner of Draco's desk. 

 

Draco was already nearing the completion of his book. The target was third week to December, just a few week before Christmas so that buyers can gift it to their friends and relatives. He can't stop himself to be fascinated in just everything about this man.

 

 _His_ Draco sighed and put down his quill. "I'm bored, let's go ice skating."

 

Harry looked at him and realized that indeed, he's very fascinated with this man. He's beautiful, talented, smart, and funny and everything else that Harry could ever want. He likes him, wants him, he…loves him.

 

"Stop staring, Potter. I already told you a million times that it's rude."

 

"I,…So, ice skating was it?"

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

Ronald Weasley dusted off the straying Floo Powder from his robes as they stumble over the Drawing Room of Malfoy Manor. He automatically gripped Hermione's hand, knowing fully well what took place in this room years ago. Hermione smiled at him.

 

Malfoy was expecting them but Harry did not know they're visiting. Ron was already sizzling with excitement to tell Harry the good news. Hermione told him that he should stop buggering his best mate, but Ron knew that if Harry won't take the responsibility of finding a partner, then Ron will. For Harry.

 

"You're early," Malfoy remarked haughtily when he entered the room.

 

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked straightforwardly. He felt the pain of Hermione's wrath when she pinched him secretly. His wife never missed reminding him of 'manners', which in his opinion, not applicable to Malfoy. But he still loves her so much, nonetheless. 

 

"Thank you for allowing us to visit, Malfoy. May we ask for Harry?" Hermione said.

 

Malfoy nodded and snapped his fingers. A house elf appeared and he ordered it to inform Harry of his visitors. Ron could feel the vibrating tension from Hermione, knowing how she is with the rights of elves.

 

They watched as Malfoy disappeared behind the enormous door. An elf popped up and offered them biscuits and tea and informed them that their friend's coming.

 

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed when their friend came to view.

 

Harry smiled widely and hugged Hermione. "What are you guys doing here?"

 

"I have a good news for you," Ron volunteered excitedly. They all sat down and gripped at their cups of tea. 

 

"What is it?"

 

"Guess who I saw on the Ministry ball? Romilda Vane. You remember her right? She's an Unspeakable now, highly respected and very good at her job. I know you had quite the trauma, but she has changed too. She's now a very beautiful, smart and friendly woman. I knew she'd be perfect for you the exact moment I saw her. So what do you think?"

 

Hermione and Harry shared a meaningful glance but Ron chose to ignore it, apparently too exhilarated with his talking.

 

"I…well…"

 

Having noticed Harry's discomfort, he furrowed his eyebrows. "What? I thought you were a bit interested with her before."

 

"All I can remember is that she murdered me with love potions. And that's hardly a reason to admire upon, Ron."

 

"But believe me, Mate. You'll lose your jaw once you-"

 

"Ron," Harry scolded lightly

 

Ron sighed in surrender. "I know you'll do this, but let's not despair yet, we still have Maura. She's really-"

 

"Ron, I'm gay."

 

Ron blinked once, twice, and a hundred times more. He's mate looked serious, but surely this is one of his excuses again and- Fuck, Harry's serious.

 

"W-what?" he stammered.

 

"I'm gay. Thank you for all your efforts mate but…I can't. Actually, I just found out. So, err…yeah." Harry shrugged and refused to look at his best friends. 

 

"Oh, Harry…" he heard his Mione say.

 

"But how? What about Ginny?" Ron said.

 

Harry swallowed thickly. "Of course, I loved her. I still do, not in that way though. But honestly, how all this happened, I don't have any bloody idea."

 

Ron glanced at Hermione and was surprised to see no trace of shock on her face. "Don't worry Harry, we understand. You should've talked about it to me, to us."

 

"I know." Harry smiled. "I'm so sorry Mione, but I don't really know where to start if I would."

 

"Actually," Ron watched the hint of guilt on his wife's face, "I already had an idea about it a long time now," Hermione admitted.

 

Ron felt his jaw fall. His wife knew but she didn't tell him. She didn't even stop him from setting up Harry for dates with…women. He wasn't surprised that she knew—she knows everything after all, but he's surprised that she kept it from him. Harry is their best friend.

 

"Why didn't you tell me Mione?" 

 

"I couldn't Ron. It is not something that I should reveal, it is Harry's. I didn't think he even had any idea about being gay that time so it would be so rude of me outing him without Harry even having the thought cleared on his own."

 

Ron stared at his shoes. Harry is his best friend, and will always be. "Don't worry mate, nothing's gonna change. Although, maybe you can tell me what traits you prefer in…blokes."

 

"You're never going to give up, are you?" Harry sighed and looked thoughtful. "Maybe…funny, and beautiful, a nice company, doesn't see me as the 'Harry Potter', doesn't pity me with my past, knows how to adjust with my moods, and…really pisses me off but still makes me smile. That's all, I guess."

 

Ron watched the blush that bloomed on his mate's face and as well as the knowing smile that Hermione flashed. _She knows something that I don't. As always._

 

He smiled and nodded at Harry. "I'm happy that you've finally found yourself mate."

 

Harry gave him a grateful smile. Ron was about to tell Harry about an Auror Trainee who's queer and good-looking when suddenly they heard a crash outside. Seconds later, Malfoy's swearing voice resounded.

 

"Err, I think my client needs me. Excuse me," Harry said. He stood up and opened a door that revealed a Draco Malfoy sprawled unceremoniously on the floor. From their angle, the git cannot see them, but he and Hermione had a full view of the happenings.

 

"I don't need your bloody savior knick knacks Potter," Malfoy spat. Ron gripped the arm of the chair harshly, urging his irritated self not to go there and kick Malfoy's arse for saying such things to Harry.

 

They watched as Harry scowled at the bane of their existence and was dumbfounded when Harry suddenly smiled. A real smile. 

 

"Sorry but you look quite alot like a trapped puffskein. Can't help myself." He then extended a hand and Malfoy accepted it reluctantly.

 

Harry heaved up the pointy git but Malfoy staggered to keep his balance, making Malfoy almost—just almost—fall all over again. He gave Harry a deathly glare. 

 

"You're very funny Malfoy, don't you know that?" Harry laughed out, which made Malfoy's glare level up to a dangerous range.

 

You're funny, Malfoy…funny…, the words went dancing around Ron's mind that he swore his brain was trying to tell him something. _“Maybe…funny, and beautiful, a nice company, doesn't see me as the 'Harry Potter'…and…really pisses me off but still makes me smile..."_

 

Oh, fucking shit.

 

Ron gulped as realization dawned onto him. _But Malfoy is a snob, he's a prat, and he's just so blond!,_ quarrelled Ron's other mind.

 

He eyed his best friend and his former-and-quite-still enemy. Harry was laughing breathlessly and Malfoy appeared to be sporting an annoyed and stern look, but the twitch of his lips revealed that he's stifling a laugh…

 

Ron sighed heavily.

 

"Are you all right, Ron?" Hermione asked, concerned eyes directed at him. 

 

"I think I just realized that Malfoy, against all odds, fits properly to the criteria and that I should painfully try to arrange a date for them. Fuck, if I'd do that, I think Harry will be questioning my sanity for years and Malfoy will be hexing me bald to next year. Plus, I'm not even sure if Malfoy's gay or that if they will like each other. Oh fuck it all."

 

Hermione smiled at him. But the smile was the smile that meant he's being an idiot again. "You still don't get it, do you?"

 

Ron's eyebrows furrowed, confused at everything in the universe. "Don't get what?"

 

But his question was only answered by a kiss on the cheek.

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

Harry stared at the ceiling and the ceiling stared back at him. Just a few days ago, he realized that he's bloody well in love with his school nemesis. And just awhile ago, he blurted out to his friends that he likes men without even discussing the matter to himself. Well, there's no use taking it back now. They believed and Hermione said she knew.

 

He thought that he still needed time to think about his preferences and sexuality, especially that nowadays the first thing in his mind wasn't that, but his feelings for Draco. If he's in love with a bloke—and Draco is a hundred percent bloke—then he's indeed that. Damn, he's 25 and he just discovered that he's that. Or whatever you call it. _Gay? Queer? Fag? Bent?_ , supplied his now-even-more traitorous mind. And from the looks of it, especially with Harry's wet dreams and discreet glances to Draco's arse, yes indeed, he is very gay. Thankyouverymuch.

 

Now that it's settled, another matter in the no-ending list of 'Harry Potter's Issues In Life' was that how he will handle his feelings for Draco. How? He didn't even know if Draco feels or can feel the same way. The thought both inspired and horrified Harry. Yeah, Draco is queer, but that didn't mean that he feels the same way. It's almost impossible for Harry. And also, if Draco really does feel the same way, he would've noticed it or felt it or something like that. Sadly, Harry's no expert to these things.

 

But what if…

 

A knock from the door startled Harry. He lazily got to his feet from his comfortable position on the bed to check who the visitor was. The wards were calm, which meant that the person behind the door lives—or temporarily lives—in the Manor.

 

"Why the need of ransacking my things, Potty?" was Draco's greeting to him when he opened the door.

 

"I don't know what you're talking about," he lied.

 

Draco merely rolled his eyes and pushed past Harry, and then casually sat on Harry's bed.

 

"Call me a neat freak but one little disarrangement, even just a millimetre, I will know Potter."

 

Harry looked at him with big innocent eyes. 

 

Draco gave him a stern look and crossed his legs. "I know it's something important, Harry, and you need to tell me what it's all about. Besides, you're the only one who has access to my office other than me."

 

"I will tell you of course, but later, when I've already figured things out," Harry said, giving up the hope of denying his sneaky attempts.

 

"You rummaged through my Employee Files," he said blatantly. 

 

"Oh it was an Employee File? Sorry, I didn't know."

 

Draco looked at him pointedly. "You pulled out Williams' file, Potter. I know."

 

Feeling even more hopeless, Harry walked towards Draco to sit beside him, but he didn't noticed Teddy's stray crayon near his feet. "I-"

 

Harry stumbled straight to Draco, pinning him to the bed, their legs tangled half on the floor half on the bed. Harry breathed in the scent of ink, parchment, and something like cinnamon.

 

Draco's face was even more beautiful up close. Red puffy delicious lips, sharp-sloped nose, and silver grey eyes that stare right through Harry's very soul. He watched in amusement as Draco's pupils went wide, devouring any traces of grey around it.

 

They're so close now…so close…so...

 

Harry leaned in and kissed Draco. At first, the blond tried to push him away, but Harry used his weight and pinned Draco even more. Harry's tongue peeked out and grazed Draco's soft lips which opened to welcome him.

 

He took advantage of Draco's change of attitude and greedily kissed the blond, exploring and tasting every corner of his mouth. When Draco kissed back, they both moaned as their tongues played with each other gamely, licking and biting and tasting.

 

 _Fuck finally_ , Harry thought as he felt Draco bit his lip. His left hand flew to grab Draco's hair when all of a sudden, firm hands pushed him away harshly. Harry toppled to the floor and felt his arse whine from the sudden impact.

 

He looked up and found Draco, flushed and panting hard, standing up.

 

"What the fuck was that?" Harry heard himself complain and hated immediately the sudden bitterness in his voice. 

 

"I should be the one to ask that," Draco snapped back.

 

Harry struggled to stand up, refusing to be looked down upon a Malfoy. "You're the one who pushed me!"

 

"Well you're the one who bloody kissed me!" Draco spat with every venom and resentment. Harry felt something gripped his chest and throat tightly. There's nothing there but he can feel the pain as those words were said. _He didn't like it. He didn't want me._

 

"What do you really want, Potter? You and your useless shits should just have-"

 

"Oh useless am I? So useless that if it were not for me, you would've been crushed at that fucking book-signing." Harry hates reminding others of his help to them but he didn't understand any of this, all he knew was that he's hurt and rejected and bloody aching inside.

 

"You're the one who begged to offer your help."

 

"I did not beg, you sodding prat! It was you who needed me." 

 

"I didn't! And I will never. I don't need your fucking little whatnots Potter because for your information, they irritate me and your very presence makes me sick. I don't bloody need you!"

 

That's it. That's enough. Harry glared one last time and stomped off the room.

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

Since that fateful night, Potter had not yet came back to the Manor, and Draco's not worried even a bit. Potter left his things, and Draco didn't care. Draco didn't have a bodyguard anymore and he's not giving a fuck at that. It was more peaceful anyway, now that Potter's gone. No more annoying little bugger in his office and no more tail that follows him around. 

 

Everything's better, Draco tried to convince himself.

 

The house was peaceful now without the presence of Potter, except for the incessant questions of people. 

 

"What the fuck did you do to Harry, Draco?" Pansy accused that morning after the fight when she noticed that Potter was nowhere to be found. 

 

"It's very irresponsible for him to leave all of a sudden," his father commented. "But we know that Mr. Potter is not the type of person to back out suddenly. There must have been an important reason," his mother said.

 

"Did you two have a row?" Thomas demanded.

 

They were all on his fucking side! Just how did that happened?, Draco thought every time someone asked him regarding Potter's whereabouts. Damn, even the house elves were asking!

 

Draco gripped his quill tightly and forced himself to concentrate. Thinking about Potter will not help anything, neither looking at Potter's favorite spot every time he went about Draco's office.

 

Minutes later, Pansy came and brought Draco a cup of tea. He should really be thankful for his secretary.

 

"Drink that. You look awful without Harry."

 

Or maybe not so thankful.

 

He gave Pansy his finest glare and went back to his work. She lingered around a little bit longer and Draco was starting to get annoyed.

 

"What do you want?" 

 

"Nothing…it's just…" She moved forward and grabbed Draco's right hand, the one that's holding the quill. "Just when did you get this?" Pansy said as she stared at the back of his hand. 

 

Now even more irritated, he pulled his hand away. "What are you-"

 

A faded but clear diamond-shaped scar was pasted on the back of his hand. What the fuck.

 

"I don't remember having this yesterday."

 

He traced the scar with his fingers. It's a perfect diamond and was placed or rather, scarred at the very centre of his back hand.

 

"How the heck did you get that?" Pansy voiced out the same question in Draco's mind. He can't remember anything having caused this.

 

A house elf appeared. "Master Draco, we is being asked to tell sir that Mrs. Granger-Weasley needs Master's presence now."

 

"I guess we'll hear our answer right away."

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

"But…how come?" 

 

"An agreement sealed with magic and kiss must be finished and done," Granger- err, Weasley or whatever—he's just going to stick to Granger because the world's already abundant of people to be called Weasley—explained some moments later.

 

"I'm not really surprised in the kissing part, since it's predictable that the two would do exactly just that the moment they saw each other after long years, but sealed with magic?" Pansy asked.

 

Draco glared at her and turned to nee Granger. "I remember Potter and we shook hands before…kissing. I guess we've exchanged magic unintentionally."

 

Granger nodded. "You may have. You see, this kind of seal acts like a bond and expresses willingness and finality. The 'deal' should be completed in whatever circumstances it will take. Now, if the 'deal' was not done or either of the parties ran away, this comes in." She pointed at Draco's scarred hand.  

 

"Of course, running away. I wonder who did it," Pansy mocked.

 

"He was the one who left," Draco defended.

 

"Actually, that matter can be shown in the shape of the scar. If the First or the one who set up the agreement backed away, the shape would be a triangle. And if the Second or the one who agreed backed away, the shape would an upside-down triangle." Draco stared at the diamond on his hand. "Meaning, since Harry's and yours are both diamond, the two triangles being combined resulting to a diamond, it was the both of you who ran away from the agreement."

 

_Both of you who ran away…_

"You're pretty lucky. There are other more serious ways that this magic can make itself known just to force the completion of the agreement," Granger finished.

 

"Is Harry's scar on the right hand too?" Pansy enquired.

 

"No, on his face," Granger answered.

 

This made Draco look up. "On his face? Seriously?"

 

"On the right cheek. The seal has a catch actually. It would've been harmless for the simpler circumstances, but unfortunately, yours is not, especially that you're keeping this stalker-thing confidential from the public."

 

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

 

"The scar will theoretically appear on the most exposed part of your body, somewhere people can easily see, observe and lay eyes on. In your case, you're a writer so it appeared on the back if your hand. The catch that I'm talking about is this: every time someone will ask you how you got the scar, you'll be forced to say the truth. The truth which includes a Magical Seal gone mad, a stalker and whatever happened between you and Harry. You don't have a choice, you'll say it with or without your consent. Even to a stranger. So as long as they'll ask, you'll be forced to say every little thing," she explained.

 

"It's like a bloody punishment," Draco said, scowling at the back of his hand.

 

 "I asked him a question awhile ago about the scar but he didn't blurt out anything like disappointing Harry in their fucking session or something," bloody Pansy said to Granger.

 

Draco turned to Pansy. She's right, she asked him how he got the scar but he didn't go all Veritaserum drunken bastard. He's hoping that it's just a myth after all. 

 

"I think it's because she's part of the agreement. Harry told me his job was to protect you and the others. Since Pansy's involved, the magic assumed that she knows the story already."

 

Draco nodded absently. He's fucked up. Everything to do with Potter is mad, and he's starting to see it now.

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

Draco pulled the sleeves of his jumper further to cover the scar. He knew that it's not that helpful because the magic will find a way for the scar to be seen. He hoped to Merlin that keeping his hand under the table will somehow help.

 

He has a meeting with the publishing company, the editors, and the sponsors, and the other shits that Draco doesn’t give a fuck of. The book was already finished and is being published presently. A week from now, it will be sold to the public.

 

The meeting will be about selling strategies, book stores blah blah and etcetera etcetera, but the best part and only the good part is when Draco gets to see and have the first sample of the finishing product. 

 

"Draco you should better say sorry to Harry sooner," Pansy advised unnecessarily while putting on her coat. She will be coming with him to become his temporary sidekick, which meant that she will be casting Draco a Silencing Charm in case he starts babbling unnecessary and confidential things like kissing Potter.

 

"Apologizing is only for the one who did something wrong," he countered.

 

"You know, I have this urge to just watch you explain what happened to some random guy and pretend to forget how to cast Silencio so that I will know what caused this dramatic turn of events."

 

Greg came and looked at them. "Should we go now?"

 

The three of them arrived in front of Pan Wizarding Books a few moments later. Soon, they were seated with a lot of bearded people around a large oblong table and the meeting had begun.

 

Draco yawned, blinked, and yawned again. As the writer, his presence is very important, but it didn't mean that it's important to listen to them.

 

The meeting was boring. But at least, only five people noticed his scar and asked. Pansy Silenced and shoved him away to the loo for him to hide. Draco didn't mind leaving her to explain for the sudden interruption in the conversation, she's a Slytherin after all.

 

Draco couldn't help but think that Granger's right—and she bloody always is, for the love of cranberries—and that this thing was dangerous. The stalker slash killer all in one story, plus all the kissing with the Savior of the Wizarding World, is something that he will never tell others. And now that this Merlin forsaken seal magic was forcing him to do just that, he's cursing his luck.

 

Still, the day was about to end without anyone knowing anything. That's far better than he could expect. 

 

Draco thought that everything was going well. Or so he thought.

 

"You heard what Weasley slash Granger said, the only thing to stop this punishment is for the two of you to reconcile and complete the agreement," Pansy whispered as one young man stood up to present charts.

 

"And you also bloody know that this fucked up agreement will still be put to an end if the crazy as shit stalker gets captured and kicked to Azkaban. I just have to get on with this buggering scar and confine myself inside the house until that happens. I don't need Potter," he insisted.

 

Pansy sighed. "Why the need of stubbornness Draco? You know that Harry is an excellent bodyguard, you still need his bloody help!"

 

"I said I do not. I get annoyed with his very presence and he gets pissed with everything I do. We're better off a mile away from each other."

 

"But-"

 

"Here you go, Mr. Malfoy." A middle-aged man smiled at him and handed him a hard-bound book.

 

Draco ran his hand over the spine of the book, of his book. It's beautiful. Golden letter of 'Those of the Other Worlds: In the Beginning' was glowing brightly and silver 'D. Malfoy' was proudly imposed. 

 

Looking at his creation always gives him this kind of feeling. The feeling of excitement and success and achievement and happiness. But there's something wrong, something oddly missing. He felt happy and proud of himself, but…right now, he felt like there's something else he wanted. A picture of Potter smiling came up to his mind and he vanished it quickly.

 

He chose to concentrate on the book he's holding. He opened it slowly and touched the blank first page. He flipped it to the next page and saw the title and his name there. But when he turned it to the next page, he saw a parchment. 

 

It’s a rectangle and Draco reckoned it's spelled so that anyone holding the book won't notice that there's something inserted inside it. The color was a sickly shade of brown and there's…fuck. A golden letter 'D' was on its centre.

 

Another threat.

 

Draco inhaled sharply. He glanced at his left and saw Pansy staring dreamily at a handsome editor across the table. At his right, Greg was munching gleefully on the offered biscuits. If Potter was here, he would've noticed that…

 

Draco shook away the unpermitted thought. Gathering up his inner Gryffindor, he unstuck the paper. He found out that it's not a paper after all, but an envelope. He slit it open and pulled out a smaller rectangular parchment.

 

 _Time is ticking, Malfoy. Tick tock tick tock. Have you already said your last goodbyes and wishes? I advise you to do so now_.

 

The lunatic. He really thought that he could scare Draco with this? Huh, such a daft.

 

Draco peeked inside the envelope to see if there's anything else. There's something small and square. Something…Draco immediately filled with horror when he pulled out a puzzle piece.

 

He remembered fully well when Andromeda Fire called him hours later after they delivered the glow-in-the-dark puzzle that Teddy left. She told him that a piece was missing. Potter tried to find it but announced that it's a lost cause and Draco ended up promising to buy a new one instead. 

 

"That Harrison guy is not just good-looking, very smart as- Draco? Is there something wrong? You look pale." Draco heard Pansy saying, but he wasn't really sure of anything anymore. "Draco?"

 

"This meeting is dismissed. I hope to see you all again in Mr. Malfoy's next volume of this trilogy," the middle-aged man announced and everyone started standing up. 

 

Draco felt like his feet were frozen in place. Sensing Pansy's tension beside him, he quickly snapped back to attention, inserted the parchment back to its place, and closed the book. They stood and Greg followed. If the stalker was able to snatch the puzzle piece, it meant that the fucking lunatic was able to get inside the Manor. Inside his home.

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

"You should call back, Harry. That's the best thing to do," Thomas advised him, though Draco knew that what Thomas really wanted was for Potter to comeback so that he can continue his one-sided flirting. 

 

Draco was now surrounded by these people who had lived in the Manor for a few weeks now because of Potter's request. His father looked stern, his mother looked concern, Thomas was irritated and Pansy seemed to have the urge of murdering him. 

 

He told them about the threat and his suspicions about the stalker getting inside the Manor. He wanted to keep the information because he very well known that if he told them, the direction of the conversation would be directed to only one path, and that is Potter. But Draco also knew that it's dangerous keeping things like these and that he owed them this much for sticking up with him. 

 

"Draco," Pansy spoke up, "I know that you are stubborn and a pain in the arse, I've grown up with it. But I also know that you are responsible and rational most of the time. That bond may have failed to make you turn to Harry again, but this is more serious now."

 

Draco felt himself flush at the mention of the bond. "It's not a bond, Pansy, it's a seal. A seal of an agreement. Those two things are wholly different from each other."

 

"Well, you and Harry will still end up bonded with each other someday I'm pretty sure, so what's the difference really?"

 

 Lucius and Narcissa pretended nonchalance, Thomas scowled, Pansy smirked, and Draco glared holes on her. 

 

There was a moment of awkward silence for awhile until his father spoke up.

 

"My son, you know that we've lost so many things because of the mistakes I've done and choices I've made. I've lost many, I even almost lost myself, but I'm grateful that I haven't lost you and your mother. What's the point of living if your only son is gone. I don't really say these things normally, and I know that I'll be mocked endlessly by Narcissa for being emotional." He paused. "And as much as I am reluctant to praise Potter's skillfulness, he's the only one I can trust to keep you safe. If you can't do this for yourself, please do it for us."

 

Draco watched as his mother held his father's hand gently. He's being selfish by keeping Potter away and he knew that. It's time to think about others now.

 

"I think we need to contact nee Granger."

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

Harry busied himself with many things to—and with little success—forget anything to do with Malfoy. He's almost desperate to Obliviate himself.

 

He tried pushing away thoughts like if Draco's safe, if that fucking stalker finally got to him, if he's doing fine. He didn't want those buggering thoughts to ruin his day. After all, he said he doesn’t need Harry anymore.

 

He was cleaning the kitchen the third time today now. He's not a neat-freak or anything, he just can't find anything else to do. The other parts of the house were already cleaned fourth or fifth time just in the span of two days. He really needed to find a job now. As in really now.

 

Ron had been visiting him, informing him about blokes that according to him, "can really fill your lonely nights, mate" and at the same time, kept questioning about Malfoy. The odd thing was, though Ron always gives peevish remarks and spiteful opinions, he's also trying to not-so-subtly tell Harry that 'Malfoy has always been a git, let's just get used to it'. Harry's instincts told him that there's something there in between the lines.

 

Hermione on the other hand, kept pestering him about completing the sodding agreement. She gently and sometimes not-so-gently prods him that running away won't do anything and letting Malfoy get into him is a sign of immaturity.

 

"Harry?" Hermione's voice called out. Speaking of the devil. "Can I get through?"

 

Harry placed the last of the shimmering cups back to their assigned cupboard and went to the fireplace. "Of course."

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

Harry was very much surprised to hear Hermione's news. The stalker was able to get inside the Manor, steal the strayed puzzle piece and continue on his way, planning to use it for the threat that would be given to Draco Malfoy.

 

There are two holes in the story that might enlighten the case. How did the stalker get inside the Manor with all the wards that Harry placed? Second, how did the said stalker manage to insert the threat into the book?

 

Auror instincts and analysing skills are second-nature when it comes to these things. Harry's cogs turned and turned, trying to see what pieces in the story were missing.

 

The wards he made were intended to block anyone bringing suspicious muggle-made objects and unfamiliar people to the original wards. It will also list the number of people and their magical signature. It can't be disarmed easily, in fact, maybe not at all. And if ever it will be, Harry will know. He might be angry and confused and just want to kick Malfoy's arse, but he's a hundred percent sure that nothing's wrong with the wards.

 

He had also secretly spelled some tracking spells on all of the involved people. Lucius and Narcissa never left Manor, Pansy only leaves for a date or to visit her parents, Thomas never left—apparently because he likes to slime around Harry all day—except for that one time when he needed to meet a journalist and also that time when he went to a bar. Oh, and there's still another one, he also asked Ron's team to keep an eye on Williams so that-

 

  1. Fucking Williams.



 

Harry jumped out of his bed and went to the sink to wash his face. He needed to see Malfoy. Now.

 

The flush of cool water on his skin felt good. When he checked his face in the mirror, his eyes were drawn to the diamond-shaped scar on his face. His hand flew up to touch the patched skin ad felt the rough surface of the scar. _Running away won't solve the problem, Harry…_ Maybe he should just finish what he started—with or without his sodding feelings for the blond. Maybe Hermione's right. But of course she is, she always is. Really is. 

 

After the dramatic realizations, Harry Apparated to Malfoy Manor without second thoughts. He dashed through the grounds and opened the front door. He was then welcomed by a harassed-looking blond who looked shock at the sight of him.

 

"Malfoy."

 

"Potter."

 

"I don't think you're still safe here. We need to evacuate you and the others."

 

"Evacuate? But…where?" Malfoy's confused face made Harry's heart ache and stomach do a flip. He guessed that his body was just as happy to see him again as it was pained to remember what he's done.

 

Crunching down the mixed emotions, Harry nodded firmly. "To Andromeda's. That's the safest place right now."

 

Malfoy straightened and nodded as well, seeming to prepare for a battle. "Did she know already?"

 

"Actually, I'm just about to inform her. I'll take care of Andromeda's and you'll take care of the others. We'll be leaving in an hour." Harry turned to go to the fireplace but halted. "And by the way Malfoy, tell them to keep this a secret. No one should know where we are."

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

“Potter, you have to tell me what's going on right now," Malfoy demanded when he finished up fixing his temporary room. Harry gently placed the pudding on the table. As a sign of gratitude, he promised Andromeda that he'll cook for dinner.  

 

He turned to the man beside him and once again saw confusion in the man's eyes. He felt his heart tighten but disregarded it. Looking around to see if anyone was near enough to hear, he pulled Malfoy closer, intending to discuss the matter in a lower volume. 

 

When Harry saw Malfoy's eyes went wide, he quickly pulled back his hand and looked away. "I think I know who the suspect is, but there's still some things missing," he whispered.

 

"What do you mean? Who is it? You have to tell me, Potter," Malfoy whispered back.

 

"Jacob Williams."

 

Malfoy's eyes went impossibly wide. ”But…"

 

"Listen, the day when the puzzle piece went missing, I saw Williams exit the Manor. Other than him, no one else visited that day. I also checked the wards in the Red Sitting Room earlier this day and found that Williams went inside there that day. That was the room where Teddy left the puzzle."

 

"And it's also the room where Thomas hangs out, Potter, so his secretary would naturally be there as well."

 

"You know what's funny? When I checked the wards, I found out that Thomas never entered the Red Sitting Room the whole day. So it left Williams no reason to sneak around that room. And also, I saw him in your book-signing standing near the big shelf."

 

"That's why you rummaged through my files…"

 

Potter nodded, no use keeping that secret now. "The wards only block those who are unfamiliar with it, and since Williams had been going in and out some years now, he can't really be called an unfamiliar. I should've noticed this before if I had not forgotten to recheck the wards that day because of tiredness."

 

"And why were you tired?" Malfoy enquired suspiciously.

 

Harry gave him an accusing look. "We went ice skating because you were bored. Apparently, falling off many times on a hard ice, especially if one had no talents at all, is pretty tiring."

 

"Oh, so it's my fault now?" The other man glared daggers at him. 

 

"If only you're not such a fussy little git," Harry countered.

 

"Well you-"

 

"Fucking stop the two of you or I'll hex your balls off. I'm serious," Pansy interrupted from nowhere. She then turned to Harry. "By the way, why the need of evacuating? I thought you could just fix up the wards." 

 

"There's nothing wrong with the wards. If the suspect managed to get inside the Manor, he might have placed bombs or something dangerous inside the house. The Manor will be checked of course, but there's a chance that a bomb will explode even before we could find it. So it's safer here," he explained.

 

"I agree with Mr. Potter," Lucius supplied as he entered the Dining Area. Harry always wonders why Malfoys are very good at spectacular entrances; could they be professional eavesdroppers or something?

 

Harry turned and watched Malfoy sulkily sat on a chair. Right there and then, he realized that the two of them were back at stage one. And Harry’s pretty sure that they would never proceed to any more stages at all.

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

Harry went out of the house to the garden and found most of the people hanging out there. He already talked to Ron about Williams and asked him to check Malfoy Manor for any dangerous objects.

 

"Cousin Draco!" he heard Teddy shout. Malfoy smiled at him and pointed at the ball the child's holding. "I found this ball near the Pine Tree, it's really awesome!"

 

Harry snapped from staring at Draco. Found _a ball near a tree? That's quite not right._ As much as Andromeda loves Harry, she will never be fond of muggle toys. Only Harry and Hermione give Teddy those. Hermione usually gives the educational toys and Harry gives the fun stuff. And he couldn’t remember giving Teddy a watermelon-designed ball like that. Could it be-

 

"Teddy!" Harry shouted loudly and urgently. He ran swiftly, grabbed the ball from Teddy and threw it away as hard and far as he can, and cast wide Shield Charm to them all. 

 

In a matter of seconds, the ball exploded, sending pieces of tree trunks and twigs around them.

 

 

"What was that?" Thomas blankly voiced out.

 

"Does that mean that we're not safe here too?" Pansy's trembling voice came. 

 

Harry hugged Teddy to soothe him. "We're still safe here. Birds can enter the wards here so they can fly freely, so I think a bird purposely dropped it here. Don't worry, I'll fix that immediately. Let's go inside now."

 

Slowly, they went one by one back to the house. Andromeda carried Teddy and assured him that everything's all right. He asked her if she wanted them to leave so that Harry can find another place. She shook her head firmly and told Harry that she'd feel better if she knows that they're here. 

 

Malfoy stayed behind and gave Harry a peculiar look. "Are you sure everything's all right? Teddy was almost-" Malfoy's voice tightened and he quickly closed his mouth. Harry could see the worry and uneasiness in his eyes. 

 

"Everything's all right." Harry did his best to refrain from touching Malfoy. He wanted so badly, but he's not allowed anymore. 

 

|

 

That night, Harry stayed awake and monitored the wards every now and then. Malfoy assured him that no one told anyone else where they'll go, but it seemed like someone leaked. He already scanned each of them and all were cleared of any Tracking and Tracing spells except for the one that Harry cast on them. No one should've known they're here.

 

Harry's sleepiness went lost when he noticed that there's something with the wards. The red light on the tip of his wand meant that there's a disturbance in the wards. Someone is outside. He or she was near enough for the wards to notice but far enough for the wards not to be able to read his or her magical signature. Damn, whatever's out there, he's not just passing by, Harry's sure of that.

 

This guy's wise, Ron said that the bombs he used were no joke and he was able to deliver the ball inside the garden. He should alert everyone. But before that, Harry needed to double-check first.

 

"Homenum Revelio." When he's sure that there's no one else inside except for them, he cast another spell that will awaken and alert the others and at the same time meant that they should stay in their rooms and wait for Harry to get them.

 

With his wand out, Harry roamed the house for anything suspicious and unusual. When he turned to the kitchen, he heard a faint sobbing as if someone had been crying. Harry slowly and quietly peered. It's Thomas. He looked miserable, Firewhiskey in one hand.

 

"Hey," Harry approached slowly.

 

The man looked up and his eyes widen for a second at the sight of Harry. "Why are you here?" he said roughly.

 

"It's dangerous out here. You should not be alone and drinking at this hour."

 

The man laughed and looked away to stare at the Firewhiskey he's holding. "This is my fault. My fault, Harry, my fault."

 

Harry took a cautious step forward. "What are you talking about?"

 

"I hired the killer. This is all my fault."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

Thomas took a large swig from the bottle. "I went to this bar in Knockturn Alley to booze out a bit. A cloaked guy approached me. We talked and talked, until he asked me if I wanted to kill someone, he would do it for a fair price. I said yeah, Draco Lucius Malfoy. The he-"

 

"You hired a hit man to kill Draco?!" Harry asked incredulously. He had always known that Thomas was jealous of Draco, but he had never thought that he would go as far as this.

 

"I was drunk! I can't even remember most of our conversation or his face or if I even fucking paid him. I was just-" He sighed miserably. "I envy Draco. I learned to hate him because of it. I'm also a writer, just as good as him. And he's also once a Death Eater like me. Even worse! And here I am, fucking reviewing his works and correcting his little mistakes like some shabby little sidekick because no one wants to accept me in any writing jobs. We're just the same but he got everything I wanted. And me? Just looming in his shadows, not seen and appreciated. He gets fucking everything, including you. The funny thing is, he didn't even waste any fucking effort. You look at him as if he's the only person on earth. Why the fuck did you fall for him?!"

 

"Maybe because he's not like you. He made mistakes and learned from it. You're talented Thomas, you really are, but you spent your whole life envying Draco and thinking what's in him that you do not have. You complain about not being seen but you yourself forget to see the importance of your abilities. All your life you're trying to compare others' importance that's why you'll never know yours. Draco would've been willing to help you if you told him that you wanted to be a famous writer too."

 

The man in front of Harry sagged and suddenly became weak, exhausted…vulnerable. "He almost killed the child. I thought the hit man won't come anymore, but he came. I didn't want to kill Draco or anybody else, especially an innocent child, Harry!"

 

"I know." Harry stepped forward, remembering something important. "But…if the one who's here right now is the hit man, how about the stalker? Do you have any idea about the stalker?

 

"I don't! Fuck If I know anything about that shit. When I went to the bar, the threats were already happening."

 

"Who's the man? Did you tell him we're here? Couldn't you take back your transaction?"

 

Thomas looked desperate. "I want to so fucking bad but I can't. I can't even remember his face. He never contacted me since and I don't know how to contact him. Fuck, if I knew how, I would've told him to just keep the money and stop."

 

Harry nodded. He can clearly see the honesty on his face. But there's still one more question left. "Thomas, did you tell Williams that we're going here?"

 

Thomas' eyes went wide. "I- I did. B-but, Jacob is a good person. I know I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but…Jacob is my friend and I don't want him to worry. Don't worry, I assure you that he's not going to tell anyone else, I know him."

 

Fuck. So Williams knew where they are. Could he be the person outside? Or is it the hit man?

 

"Come with me. Let's fetch the others."

 

"Why?"

 

Harry chose not to answer his question. One by one, he fetched Draco, Lucius and Narcissa, Andromeda and Teddy, and brought them to the Parlor. It's the safest right now. No one can Apparate going there but anyone can Disapparate from there. There's also a fireplace. He gave them the coordinates of Ron and Hermione's house, instructing them to Apparate or Floo there immediately in case something happens. He also sent a Patronus to Ron, telling him to expect guests in this wee hour. 

 

"Potter, where are you going?" Malfoy asked when Harry turned to leave, gripping his arm tightly—the first touch they ever had ever since the row. 

 

"I need to check who's lurking outside. The last time I checked, it looked like he's trying to disarm the wards."

 

"I think that we should just go to the Weasleys and leave," Malfoy whispered closely, breath hovering over Harry's skin.

 

"That's a good idea. It will be better if you'll not stay here and just go directly to Ron's and-"

 

"Potter," the blond interrupted, "I said 'we', that means you included."

 

Harry felt his heart jump. "We will never get this done if we will not catch that shit. And anyway, I guess I'm the only Gryffindor in this room, so yeah."

 

Mal- Draco—now Draco again for Harry—pursed his lips sternly. "That's a job of a Gryffindor Auror, not a Gryffindor bodyguard. You're job is to protect me at all times, not leave me to suffer my own demise in the hands of Weasley."

 

Harry smiled warmly. Draco was still holding his arm, and Harry felt so alive and oh so in love all of a sudden. "Tell Ron to send me his army, okay? I think I'm powerful enough, but I might need them to clean up the mess," Harry tried to joke.

 

Draco's eyes softened and Harry just wanted to kiss him so badly it hurts. The blond nodded and slowly released his grip from Harry's arm. 

 

"And stop worrying about me. It's flattering, I might get spoiled," he teased, wanting to make this man smile. And he did. 

 

Harry left the room and went to the garden. He cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and a Silencing Charm on his shoes. He slowly approached the gate. The man there was cloaked and can't really be recognized as a male or female. He's trying to disintegrate the wards from afar. Harry felt smug for his unyielding wards. 

 

The house itself had its own wards as well, many layers of them actually. Harry planned to open the wards of the gate to give an illusion that it had been disintegrated so that the man can enter the garden. 

 

When Harry did so, he watched the cloaked man open the gates silently and enter the grounds. He forgot his Invisibility Cloak so this Disillusionment Charm will have to do. The man crept towards a bush. He didn't seem to appear that he wanted to enter the house. Harry waited intently as the man produced a little box from his robes. He can't see properly from his position there, so Harry crawled to a large Oak Tree next to him. From there, he still can't see the man's face, but he can clearly see the box. It's red and had a weird circular design at the centre. It looked suspiciously like the remnants Ron showed him of the bomb in the incident in-

 

A bomb.

 

Shit. Harry quickly cast the spell that will tell the others in the Parlor to leave now. He just hoped that Ron was already prepared for a bunch of Slytherins.

 

The cloaked man shoved the red box further behind the bush, seeming to hide it. When he raised his wand, Harry cast Petrificus Totalus. Because of the darkness, his target missed and instead, alerted the man. The man rolled and hid behind a Pine Tree. Harry swore to himself.

 

"Locomotor Mortis!" the cloaked guy spelled back at him. Harry cast a quick Protego and hid more firmly behind the tree. An Expelliarmus won't be effective now since the suspect was alerted and gripping tightly on his wand.

 

Harry pointed his wand to the tree where the man was hiding. "Evanesco!" The tree disappeared and he quickly cast an Incarcerous now that the man was defenseless. But the man did a swift Fumos to protect himself.

 

_He's good._

 

"Expulso!" The other man cried. Everything around Harry shuddered at the expanse at the explosion, filling the place with smoke and dust and made Harry not see anything for a moment.

 

When the smoke died down, he turned around and saw a large tree falling onto him, too late now to do anything as it was already several inches above his head.

 

"Diminuendo!" Draco's voice came and the tree shrank.

 

The cloaked man pointed his wand at Draco but before Harry could cast a protective Protego at the blond, Thomas already did.

 

"Draco? Thomas? What the fuck are you doing here?!" Harry asked incredulously. Just then, the man shouted a loud "Everte Statum." The spell hit Thomas squarely on the chest and sent him flying backwards, hitting his head on a stone hedge. Draco ran to Thomas' aid and Harry, now very angry, turned to Confringo the man without hesitation. 

 

But Harry was stopped when slowly, the hood of his cloak slid off his head, revealing a shocked Williams. Harry inhaled sharply as he watched the frozen and trembling hands of the man. He seemed like he cannot believe what he'd done to Thomas, looking fearfully at the direction where Thomas flew. His eyes were blank and emotionless, but his whole body weakened and shook, proving otherwise.

 

"Expilliarmus," Harry cast instead and grasped the flying wand. He Full-Body Bind Williams and waited for Ron.

 

A few minutes later, a harassed-looking Ron and his troops arrived.

 

"You're late, Mate," Harry greeted.

 

Ron smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, mate. My team found a faint magical signature in the last threat and traced it. We found ourselves in a warehouse in the outskirts of London and all the evidences point straight to this guy, Williams," Ron gestured to a literally frozen Williams.

 

"There's just one problem," Harry said seriously. 

 

Draco approached them, Levitating an unconscious Thomas. One of the Aurors behind Ron moved quickly and took care of Thomas, Apparating him to St. Mungo's.

 

When Harry noticed Draco withdrawing his wand, he grabbed his hand to stop him. "What now, Potter? I will head to St. Mungo's. Thomas needs-"

 

"No," Harry said firmly.

 

Draco angrily tried to pull back his arms to no vain. "There's no need to keep me confined, Potter. We already caught the villain."

 

"Exactly. I don't think we're still finished here."

 

Everyone turned to him. "What do you mean?" Ron and Draco asked in unison.

 

"Remember when I said there's one problem? I'm talking about Williams. If you look closely, you'll see that he's eyes are empty, blank. When he shot Thomas the spell, he looked utterly bewildered and confused with himself. It looked like he was surprised to hurt a friend or to be in here. When I saw him that time in Draco's book-signing, he also looked confused."

 

Ron's eyes went wide, starting to realize what Harry's trying to say.

 

Harry continued, "Also, I did a little research and found out that Williams came from a pureblood family who neither supported nor opposed Voldemort in the war. He's been working for Thomas 4 and a half years now. I know you already know these details but personally, I think he has no motive to wish Draco's death."

 

"I see that with 'research', you mean digging through somebody else's files without their permission. But what really is your point here, Potter?" Draco turned to Williams. "If you're trying to say that Jacob is innocent, I'll gravely agree with you. Jacob has always been a very kind type of person. Maybe this wanker is just Polyjiuced as him," he raised his wand, seeming to cast a Revelio.

 

Harry stopped him. "He is Jacob Williams. Actually, empty eyes and occasionally confused are common signs of-"

 

"Imperius," Ron finished for him. 

 

"Imperius?!" Draco turned intense grey eyes at him. 

 

"Williams underwent Auror Training before, but didn't pursue being an Auror. I think that's why the suspect chose him. Not just that, he can get near you without being suspicious. The person behind this is not just mad, he must be very smart as well."

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

The Healer said Thomas only suffered a mild head injury and a few broken bones, but nothing serious. His family was in the room so Harry decided to stay in the waiting area instead. He didn't really dream of being trapped in a middle of a family drama.

 

Harry sighed and leaned on the chair. This is a whole lot of mess. When you thought that you had already solved the problem, it turned out that you're only at the beginning.

 

Williams was brought to the Auror Dept. to be questioned and checked. A few minutes earlier, Ron called him and said that Harry's right, the guy was under Imperius. He couldn't even remember why he's in the Auror Department. Poor guy. 

 

He remembered Thomas' story about the hit man in the bar. There's really something suspicious about it. Just what were the odds that a stranger wearing a hooded cloak would approach you, talk for a bit, then ask you if you wanted to get someone killed in the middle of a crowded bar? It's not that Harry did not believe Thomas, because he did. The man was too miserable thinking he could have killed a child and a friend to lie. It's just that, there's something wrong with the hit man and with the story itself. 

 

Maybe Thomas was drunk, but he remembered about a stranger, and talking to him for awhile, and being asked if he wanted somebody to die, and saying Draco's name, and…nothing else. It's too perfect. As if the only thing he can remember was accidentally hiring a hit man. He can't be under Imperius because he'll not remember anything. Unless…

 

Harry itched to go back to Thomas and ask him again. He could've been Obliviated. He must be. Thomas is a smart guy, and even in a drunken state, he will surely not go talking with some faceless and nameless stranger. Thomas knew his name. Thomas saw his face. But the man Obliviated him to forget all the unnecessary details and left the ones that will be useful for his plan.

 

If the killer successfully killed Draco, Thomas will be brought for questioning using Veritaserum. And he will blurt out his encounter with the unknown hit man and his drunken desire to end Draco's life, and he'll be blamed—the hit man be found or not. In short, he was framed up, and Williams as well—considering the warehouse that pointed all the evidences to Williams. He's bloody smart. He framed up two people to be sure. Maybe he-

 

"Get a grip, Potter. A serious face doesn't fit you. It makes you look like a troll."

 

Harry looked up and found Draco standing in front of him, offering Harry a cup of coffee. He gratefully accepted it and inhaled the rich familiar aroma of bitter coffee beans. Draco sat beside him.

 

"It's been a long day," Draco started. 

 

"Very long indeed."

 

"The scar is starting to fade," he said. Harry looked at Draco's right hand and saw the scar, now even more faded that it usually looks like.

 

"I don't know about mine," Harry offered. And it's true, his scar is on the right cheek, he can't see it without a mirror.

 

Draco snorted and looked at Harry. "Yours is starting to fade too." 

 

"Oh."

 

Silence filled between them, and it's not the usual comfortable silence. It's awkward and heavy, and made Harry want to mess it up by kissing Draco. Which was of course, highly not advisable.

 

"I think I know how the accident in the book-signing happened," Harry broke the silence. "I saw Williams holding two copies of your book, one signed and one not. I think he lined up to get your signature and then gave you the gift that contained the threat. Maybe he used Polyjiuce or Glamour’s, I'm not so sure about that. Then, he pulled out a book from that gigantic shelf to trigger its falling; the other shelves went falling like a domino because of that."

 

"I see. So the unsigned book was the one he pulled out from the shelf. He must've prepared it already and cast the spells before the day of the event. The securities of Flourish and Blotts missed it, he's pretty clever indeed."

 

"I think it's because he used a muggle style as he usually does. In muggle world, we use books in shelves to open secret passages, we do it by pulling the book or inclining or whatever. Although, I've only seen it in films so I'm not sure if there's really such things."

 

"Films?" Draco asked curiously.

 

"Please don't make me explain the complications of muggle technology. It makes my head ache as much as History of Magic."

 

Draco laughed, and fuck, Harry's so damned right now just by hearing this man laugh. "Since you're back, I think you should probably know that I'm having my book-launching tomorrow afternoon. It had been arranged already before the recent threat, while you're not here."

 

Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco and gave him the hardest stern face he could muster. "You can't go about with a lot of unknown people whilst one of them is planning to explode your organs."

 

Draco raised his eyebrow—Harry missed that too—and looked amused. "The book will be released to the public less than a week from now. My book-launching is kind of like an exclusive party. I choose who're the ones invited and they can have a copy of the book for free if they want. There will be food, dancing, a bit of speech from yours truly, and then fun."

 

"Mmm." Harry stirred his coffee and watched the whirling of the liquid. "So who are the guests?"

 

"The publishers and editors of course. Some influential and reasonable people I know. But mostly, friends, workmates and schoolmates from Hogwarts. I gave Granger an invitation as well. I'm surprised she did not tell you."

 

Harry laughed. "She had great faith in me that I would eventually complete the agreement even though I kept on telling her that some things are just not done."

 

Silence fell once again as they both remembered what caused Harry to leave and not come back. Harry felt miserable every time he remembered that Draco didn't want him, didn't feel the same.

 

The awkwardness was thicker now. Harry was the one to break it again. "There was something odd about what Williams was doing."

 

Draco's interest piqued and he slid closer to Harry, knowing that this was confidential. "What do you mean?"

 

"While you were at the Parlor, I was there hiding behind a tree and observing the guy. He was merely trying to enter the grounds, not the house. I think he was only there to place the bomb and nothing else. The weird thing was, Ron told me that the bomb was set to explode past 10 pm tomorrow. Why would the killer wait until tomorrow midnight to kill you? Why not today?"

 

Draco shrugged and bit his lip. Harry painfully looked away from the sight. "I don't know. Maybe he just wanted to blast me off if ever he failed in his venture of killing Draco Malfoy."

 

Harry conceded that. Maybe the bomb was just a back up plan. "It could be. But why past 10?"

 

"Stop asking me, Potter. I still need my brain healthy and fat for tomorrow's event. Wearing it would do no good," Draco stood up and Vanished the paper cup. "I think Thomas’ family already left."

 

"Wait," Harry called out, standing up as well. Draco stopped on his tracks and turned to him. "Why did you follow me even if I told you to Apparate to Ron's? And why was Thomas with you?"

 

Harry had really been asking this inside his head for hours now. He hoped Draco would answer it to give rest to his poor brain.

 

"Thomas insisted to come with me," the blond said, face indiscernible. Harry wished he could read Draco's mind right now. Of all spells, Leglimens was the hardest and most impossible to practice in wand less and nonverbal style of magic.

 

"And you? Why did you stay behind and follow me?"

 

A spark of emotion that was quickly lost showed itself in Draco's eyes, but Harry could not decipher it. Draco is just bloody unreadable. 

 

"The Wizarding World might skin me alive when they find out that their savior died for me. I'm just making sure of things, Potter." And with that, he's gone.

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

Draco prepared his outfit for the book-launching later. He couldn't believe that he just slept in the Weasel's house, with him and nee Granger somewhere and might be doing things that would scare Draco for life.

 

Potter's room was beside his. Somehow, knowing that he's there made him feel safe. But of course, he would never say that out loud. 

 

He's still a bit mad at him for what happened. He couldn't believe that Potter had the nerves to play with Draco's feelings, kissing him and all. And more to that, he wondered how the heck Potter found out. It looked like he's far too smart than what he allows everyone to know. Wanker.

 

But Potter's a painfully honest Gryffindor, argues Draco's other self. He's not the type to play with others' feelings. He's a goody kind of creature after all. Maybe he's just experimenting… Still, Draco's not a guinea pig or a frog or a monkey. He's not meant to be experimented.

And Potter himself also appeared to be regretting his actions or something. He never opened the topic or said anything regarding it. They just both pretended nothing had happened. 

 

"Hey," a voice came from his open doorway. He knew who it was instantly. 

 

"It's too early to be ruining my day, Potter."

 

"No time is too early for my entertainment. I need to talk to you and Ron."

 

Five minutes later, they were gathered up in Potter's room with Weasley bringing a bunch of food suited for ten people.

 

"I think I managed to fit some pieces together," Harry—wait, just when did he become Harry, not Potter, again?—said while picking up a biscuit. "The killer framed up Thomas and Williams and wants to kill Draco, all of them purebloods. The bomb, the ball, and other weapons he used in trying to kill this blond here are all made of muggle objects and tactics that were improvised using magic."

 

"I am not 'this blond here’ Potter. I have my own intricate and unique name. Please don't waste my parent's efforts in finding the suitable constellation."

 

Harry looked at him and smiled playfully. "Sorry Draco Lucius Malfoy. Anyway, these tell us that there's a big possibility the killer is a half-blood or muggleborn. Another thing, my theory is that this person had been planning it for awhile now. But even with how smart this prickly fellow is, he never expected these three things to happen: One, that I will be Draco Lucius Malfoy's bodyguard. I think that he still doesn't know, but it had been quite a news when we were always seen together. He found me as a threat, considering that I'm with Draco Lucius Malfoy most of the time, so he framed up another person which is Thomas. This guy's good with bloody back up plans, and I admire him for that. Two, he never thought that Thomas will speak up."

 

Harry looked at him with that concerned eyes, concerned green eyes. He knew that this topic was not that comfortable for Draco. The moment Thomas opened his eyes after being aided by the Healer, he told Draco everything. His blood went cold at the realization that his friend wanted to get him killed, but Thomas quickly explained that he was drunk, that he regretted it, and that he's very sorry for everything. If Draco had learned a lesson in this life, it is that people commit mistakes and everyone deserves to be given a second chance. 

 

He nodded for Harry to continue. "I reckon that he thinks all purebloods are a bunch of selfish and snob gits. He thought that after 'hiring a hit man', Thomas will just shut up and wait for the day Draco will be murdered, but he spoke up because he's a good person deep inside. And the results say that he was indeed Obliviated, which supports my theory. And three, he got too much faith in Williams. Since he did not know I'm you bodyguard, he thought it would be easy for Williams to enter and finish his job swiftly."

 

Weasley swallowed the innocent biscuits and smiled widely at Harry. "Well done, mate. You could be a good investigator. Good thing you quit Aurors, all we do are boring stake outs and paperwork."

 

The two of them laughed. Draco agreed that being an investigator suited Harry. That serious yet excited look while explaining his theory suits him as well, really made him more edible in Draco's eyes in fact. 

 

Draco kicked the disturbing thought out the window as soon as it came. "All right then. Do you need utmost and urgent assistance in choosing decent robes for the event later?"

 

When Draco left laughing, Weasley gave him a strange look. He also took note that he'd been eyeing Harry and Draco every time the two of them banter and joke around. Could it be that Weasley’s insanity finally hit home?

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

Draco's not really the nervous type of person. If another man was in his place right now, they would've had a panic-attack every five minutes. But Draco's different. After all, he had worse. No stalker or killer could match a Dark-Lord-living-with-you-inside-your-house experience.

 

Even though, he still felt oddly unstable for some reason. There's just something tingling, something quite not right. But nevertheless, his job was to welcome his guests and that he will do.

 

Really, there's no need to be worried. Especially with the Golden Trio just around the corner, no criminal could do anything.

 

Draco smiled at Elena and Dexter when he saw them. "Could you please allow a bit of oxygen between the two of you? This is a decent party, Dexter, not a 'stick to your girlfriend' marathon."

 

Elena smirked. "Oh, getting grumpier are you? I thought getting linked with the hot and spicy Boy-Who-Lived did you good."

 

Draco pretended that he wasn't blushing at all. "You make it sound like Harry is a fried chicken."

 

She shook her head fondly, said their congratulations, and left to check out the other food that was served. Draco looked around to see if everyone had already arrived when he saw Harry.

 

He's wearing formal robes that did nothing to confine the fact that the great Harry Potter is indeed fit and…delicious. His hair still looked like he's been debauched thoroughly and his eyes were just as green as ever. He looked out of place and kept biting and licking his lips. Did he really have to keep on doing that? It felt like torture to Draco. 

 

"Hey Draco," Greg approached, cutting Draco from his mooning session. "Pansy's asking if we will still leave at around ten like before."

 

Draco nodded at him. Greg's words reeled back in his mind _. If we will still leave at around ten like before…_

On Draco's first book-launching, some of the guests started leaving around nine and it officially ended a few minutes before ten. They left at exactly ten that time. _But why past 10?,_ came Harry's voice in his mind. 

 

Draco's heart froze at the sudden realization. Oh fuck fuck _fuck._ He looked around for Harry. When he found him gingerly picking at a pancake-looking delicacy, he strode towards him, masking a relaxed and confident face. 

 

"Potter." Harry faced him, and seeming to realize Draco's serious expression, nodded firmly. They walked towards a deserted area.

 

"I think I've figured it out," Draco started. 

 

"Figured what?"

 

"When I said that the bomb might just be a back up plan and when you theorized that the killer is good at back up plans, I think we got it right. In my previous book-launching, I went home at exactly ten, and the killer knows it will still be the same this time. I think that the killer is going to do it now, Harry. Now, in this party. And maybe the killer thought that if the plan failed to carry on, he will find a way to kill me even if I'm already back to the house. That's why he set the bomb to explode past ten in the evening. Since he knew about the previous schedule, it meant that he was invited the last time, and I'm pretty sure that I have fucking invited him again. He's here, Harry."

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

Harry kept an eye on Draco. He's doing two things, somewhat multi-tasking. While sharply watching Draco and the people around him, he's also freely looking at how Draco's trousers fit perfectly around his arse, really rounded and just enough for Harry's next wanking session. He's also observing the way his fringes sway beautifully as he walks, framing the angular face with perfectness and oh, that smile. That silly playful smile that does things on Harry's insides.

 

So yeah, two things: guarding Draco and gazing at him dreamily. 

 

Greg was beside Draco and Harry and Ron maintained some distance. They couldn’t stay too close to Draco because it might threaten the killer and make him change plans or tactics. Which cannot be good at all.

 

Harry drank the wine he's holding in one go. He believed that Draco's theory and his were correct. Now, it will be easier for them to know the suspect since they already have some basis: a muggleborn or half-blood and was present both the previous and current book-launching. They already asked an Auror to go through the information and tell them who passes all of the descriptions. But it's still a long run, and they need to know who the killer is now. Fucking now.

 

There's also something that kept on bothering Harry. His instincts screamed that the answers just very near, just around somewhere. Harry narrowed his eyes at everyone in sight.

 

The list of possible suspects was yet to be given to him, but he reckoned that it would be a few influential personalities, the publication people, and Draco's friends. These people will surely be attending even the next one hundred book-launching of Draco. So either of the three… Suddenly, the face of Peter Pettigrew came to his mind. He was his father's friend but he-

 

Friend. It could be. No, it must be.

 

Theoretically, if influential people wanted to kill someone, they would probably hire a hit man and the murder will be done swiftly and without any traces. They would not play around and send dramatic death threats. That's just uncharacteristic. The publication people…Harry doesn't really know. They're just a bunch of money-makers who have no reason to play stalker with one of their clients. That one, is pathetic. Friends though…not necessarily 'friends', it could also be workmates or former schoolmates at Hogwarts. These people have more reason to play around. Anyone who had been a friend, workmate or schoolmate who developed some kind of hatred at you is commonly caused by a more personal reason. In this situation, they would surely want you to go mad, and then will kill you in the most spectacular way possible.

 

Harry could prove it through his Auror years when homicides and murders where committed by someone unexpected because of reasons quite understandable but never enough. They said they wanted justice, so they revenged. But what they don't understand is that justice and revenge are two whole different things. Justice is letting the truth prevail. Revenge is turning into something or someone that you hated the most that caused you to cause revenge in the first place. 

 

But if the killer's one of these many people: friends, colleagues, and schoolmates, where would Harry start? Oh bugger that. He's just going to listen to his very reliable instincts. And right now his instincts are telling him that…he's hungry. 

 

Harry joined Hermione and Terry Boot at their table, bringing plates of delicious unknown cuisines. "Hi, Harry!" Boot greeted.

 

Harry nodded and smiled, taking a seat across them, beside Dennis Creevey. "Hey, I heard you're working for the Prophet as well," Harry said.

 

"Yeah, me and Dennis." Boot nodded over Dennis who smiled back. "My job is really exciting, going about restaurants and tasting their delicacies. Sometimes I even get free food when I tell them that I'll be featuring their restaurant on the Daily Prophet. And little Creevey here shoots butterflies and the likes."

 

Dennis shook his head. "Come on, Terry. You make it sound like my job's boring compared to yours."

 

Terry laughed and Hermione smiled at Harry. "No it's not boring at all," Hermione defended him. "See that picture? He's the one who took it."

 

Harry turned and saw the large framed picture of Draco's new book. It was taken at the perfect angle and the book looked very elegant indeed. 

 

"That book is the first one ever published, the first sample, the one Draco owns. That's the exciting part of my job, I get to see these things before anyone else could and take a picture of it."

 

Hermione nodded eagerly and soon, she and Terry Boot were engaged in another argument.

 

Harry gazed longer at the picture that was the highlight of the stage. It's indeed beautiful, both the book and the author.

 

Harry turned to Dennis. "It's amazing isn't it? Who would've thought that you'll follow Colin's steps and become a successful photographer," he said with earnest admiration, then bit his tongue hard when he realized that talking about the deceased to their brothers was no way a good conversation. Harry himself hates remembering anything about the war.

 

"Colin deserves this success too, you know. If only it was not stolen from him," Dennis said bitterly.

 

Harry couldn't keep away the thought that he'd heard of these words before, it sounded really familiar. He disregarded the thought and nodded sombrely to Dennis.

 

Moments later, Pansy and Zabini joined them. Zabini's questions about the rumor regarding Harry and Draco's very suspicious closeness ended up in Pansy telling nonexistent tales about their supposedly 'secret love affair'.

 

"It's really hard to work with all the sexual tension going on, you know," she remarked mock-seriously.

 

Harry hid his blush non-effectively behind his glass of wine. Hermione laughed mercilessly and never came to his rescue. Being tortured by both Pansy and Hermione was not easy. Combined, these two could practically run the world. 

 

Harry was more than glad when Ron informed them that Draco will already make his speech for he couldn't take any more of Blaise' bloody smirk.

 

They all stood and gathered in front of the stage, Hermione standing beside him. Harry kept close to the stage in case the killer decided to strike. He turned to Draco and saw anxious grey eyes. It pained Harry to look at. He nodded encouragingly and flashed a smile that he hoped will send Draco a message that he will protect him whatever happens. The small smile returned to him was enough for Harry.

 

"I hate to admit this, but Malfoy is one of the strongest and most determined person I've ever met. The threats didn't stand a chance."

 

Harry watched intently as Draco walked up the stage wearing a relaxed and happy face. He scanned the room and his eyes landed on Dennis, positioning his camera to get a perfect shot of Draco's speech. 

 

"I know. No threats would ever-" Harry stopped as sudden realization rushed through him.

 

 

He felt his stomach dropped and his blood ran cold, horror and adrenaline overwhelming him all at once. 

 

Dennis Creevey's words. It sounded familiar because he had read it from one of the threats, the one from the book-signing.

 

_Success is a nice thing. But sometimes, it is stolen from the right person who deserves it._

 

Harry looked up wildly and saw Draco cast a Sonorus Charm. He turned to look at Dennis who was still clutching his camera.

 

_"There's a big possibility that the killer is a half-blood and muggleborn."_

 

_"He was invited last time…he's here, Harry…"_

 

_It is showered unfairly to the wrong person, you worthless bitch of a Death Eater…_

 

_…committed by someone unexpected because of reasons quite understandable but never enough…justice and revenge are two different things…_

 

_"That's the first one published…the one Draco owns…I get to see these things before anyone else can…"_

 

Bollocks. That's how he inserted the threat inside the book. Because he had access to it before it was brought to Draco.

 

 

Harry's eyes directed from Draco to Dennis. He planned to kill Draco tonight. But how?

 

Dennis lifted up his camera to Draco's direction, positioning his fingers to the button, waiting for the right moment, and waiting for-

 

_Muggle Weapons._

 

_Magically improvised._

 

"Draco!" Harry shouted impulsively and Draco turned and swiftly cast a strong Protego Maxima around himself. Everyone ducked when Ron ordered so. 

 

"Relashio!" Harry cast straight to an astonished Dennis Creevey. The camera fell and it automatically snapped a shot and a bullet went flying from it and accidentally hit Harry's shoulder. He groaned at the sudden pain. There's something wrong, really wrong. A muggle bullet does nothing but rip your flesh. It was just his shoulder. 

 

Harry swayed as an unwelcomed nausea and dizziness started to arise. He felt weak and his whole body was numb. There's a fucking poison in the bullet, damn it.

 

His visions blurred as he saw Draco cancelling his shield and running towards him. Dennis Creevey tried to run but Ron's Incarcerous was faster. He felt arms envelop him when his knees finally gave up the battle and saw that it was Hermione. Everything went whirling and foggy.

 

The last thing he saw was Draco's worried face.

 

•••••••|•••••••

 

Harry blinked when a sudden stream of light rudely infiltrated his eyes. He blinked again and tried to focus on his surroundings. 

 

No, no, no, no. Why is he in St. Mungo's? Harry desperately tried to remember what happened. Party, Draco, camera, poison…oh. Fucking poison. When he felt movement near his legs, he craned his head to see. Draco Malfoy was sleeping, sitting next to his bed with his head rested on his arms on the sheets.

 

Harry inhaled sharply. He never saw Draco sleeping before. He looked so peaceful, all lines and smirks gone, eyelashes softly touching the pale skin above Draco's cheekbones. He looked so…beautiful.

 

Harry tried to sit up, but ended groaning loudly as a painful sensation hit his whole body like a lightning. Merlin forbid, what had happened to him?

 

The sound woke Draco up, soft eyelashes blinking sleepily. "You're awake," the blond said.

 

Harry smiled. Draco looked cute in this sleepy state, although he would've killed Harry for calling him cute. "I should be the one saying that."

 

Draco punched Harry's legs playfully, but it still brought pain. Harry didn't complain though. "How are you feeling?" Draco asked.

 

"I feel like I got struck by lightning. My whole body bloody hurts.”

 

"There was a poison in the bullet. It's a strong one, could've killed you in five minutes if not for Hermione."

 

"I see." Harry sighed. Just what will he be without his friends? Harry figured out who's the killer. Ron captured Dennis. And Hermione aided him. They just work together like that. Maybe that's why they're the Golden Trio. 

 

Dennis though…"What happened to Dennis Creevey?" Harry asked.

 

Draco's face clouded and he pursed his lips. "They caught him and brought him for questioning. They found out that he was indeed the mastermind of it all." He paused and looked away from Harry. "He said that he can't believe that the Wizarding World accepted me, a Death Eater. He said I don't deserve any of this, that no Death Eater should be treated properly and fairly. He said that I should be thrown to Azkaban and pay for all the things I've done, for being a Death Eater. He-"

 

"Draco," Harry said loudly. Draco finally looked at him. His eyes full of sadness and guilt that shouldn't be there. "You are not a Death Eater. Yes you _were_ , but that was past. And even at that time, you didn't even seem one. You were never a Death Eater, Draco. Everyone, even you, was wounded by the war. All of us lost a part of ourselves that can never be regained anymore."

 

Draco nodded slowly. "He never recovered from his brother's death."

 

"I know, but no one can. No one can get over the war. Even if we pretend that nothing happened, we will still be haunted by it every day of our lives. The faces of those we lost will forever remain engraved forever in our minds. Getting over is not an option, but moving on is."

 

Harry looked at those grey eyes focused on him. He needed to say these words, needed to comfort Draco. 

 

"The war gave us a scar that will be embedded on our skin forever. But do you know what the nice thing about scars is? They're one of the strongest tissues. Over time, instead of a memory that haunts you, it will grow into a shield that protects you so that you will never get hurt again. If we will use our memories of the war to strengthen us and not to weaken us, we will be able to move on, step forward."

 

Harry paused and searched Draco's face. There was nothing. He's still as unreadable as he will always be.

 

"And that's what you exactly did, Draco," he continued. "You moved on. You tried to stand up again. You faced the Wizarding World with a head held high. You were scarred deep inside but you bravely stepped out and fought, and lived, and persevered to become what you are now. That's what I admire about you. That's why I love you."

 

When Harry he realized what he just said, he closed his mouth shut quickly. Did he just confess his feeling accidentally? Fuck, he didn't mean it to end like that.

 

"Err…a-anyway," Harry tried and stammered. "What I'm trying to say was that you should never let Creevey's words get you down. You're stronger than you think. And erm…that's all," he finished awkwardly and felt his face flush.

 

Harry flushed even more as he felt Draco's eyes in him. He's giving Harry that look again. He had been looking at Harry for some time now. He just hoped that he knew what it meant.

 

"Did you mean what you just said?" Draco finally spoke, his voice deep and husky and damn, Harry felt his prick jump in excitement. _Bloody hormones._

 

"Yeah."

 

The blond slowly rose from his seat, never looking away from Harry. "You know," he said slowly, seductively actually. But Harry didn't want to get his hopes up. He did raise his hopes now when Draco climbed to the bed. "When you asked me about who the boy was that made me realize I'm gay?"

 

Harry gulped soundly. He didn't know what that boy has to do with this but he couldn't come to care anymore. Harry did remember asking Draco, but he can't really remember much with Draco now straddling him, his arse seated perfectly on Harry's bulging cock under his pajamas.

 

"Still want to know who it is?" Draco purred as he leaned over until their face were inches apart, each hand on either side of Harry's head.

 

"I-…" he was lost for words. But his Draco looked like he was expecting for one so fuck it all. "Sure," murmured.

 

"That boy was…" He paused. His face was flushed and his lips were parted. Beautiful. Intense grey met his and then…"you."

 

And they were kissing before Harry even realized what was happening. 

 

The kiss was messy and harsh, teeth clanking together and tongues fighting for dominance. Harry grabbed a handful of blond hair while his other hand went exploring underneath Draco's shirt. He moaned hungrily when Draco sucked at his lip.

 

Harry forgot about his recovering state until Draco leaned and pushed harder against him. He groaned painfully to Draco's mouth and accidentally bit the other man's lip. 

 

Draco pulled away, panting and looking thoroughly debauched. Harry felt quite proud of himself. "Fuck sorry." He adjusted himself on top of Harry and made his weight lighter for Harry. When everything's done, he dove again to molest Harry even more. 

 

Harry ran his hands along Draco's back and chest, parking it on Draco's arse with a squeeze. Draco moaned in agreement, hand slowly travelling down Harry's hips. He bit Harry's lower lip gently this time and pulled away again. 

 

Harry was in awe as he stared at the blonde’s dilated eyes. 

 

Draco smiled at him. "Did you know that just some moments ago, the Weasel asked if he could set up a date for me and you?"

 

|

 

 

 

_Years after…_

_Harry finally found what he wanted._

_A job as an Investigator,_

_And Draco sodding Malfoy right by his side, where he has always belonged._

 

•••••••| **fin|** •••••••

 

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